A Friend in Need
by ProfessorPedant
Summary: Unknowingly inserted as a "Friend" in someone else's CYOA, Caleb wakes up in the nightmare that is Worm. How will he survive and what will he do? Yeah, he's got powers, but all he wants to do is go home. [On Hiatus]
1. Chapter 1

1.1

"Fuck my life!" I yelled as I dodge another rabid super-zombie.

The first clue I was seriously fucked was when someone threw a skyscraper at me.

No more than ten minutes ago I had suddenly appeared, still dressed in my t-shirt and sleep shorts, in the middle of some sort of big parking lot. I was surrounded by dozens of other people, most dressed more weirdly than I was.

Before I could get my bearings, a building fell on us. Or maybe it was thrown as it was not from anywhere near this giant lot. I got incredibly lucky and managed to be standing right were the building wasn't. Maybe it was a window or door or maybe something had already torn that part of the building away, but I was not instantly crushed like almost everyone around me.

Then this guy, dressed in a Geek Chic t-shirt, burst up from the fallen structure and started flying through several of the weirder dressed people who had managed to dodge the edifice of death. They burst like blood-filled balloons.

Something was calling out a litany as he carried out this massacre.

_Carnal deceased M4._

_Genoscythe deceased M4._

_Kazikli Bey deceased M4._

_Seir deceased M4._

_Stinger deceased M4._

_True Blue deceased M4._

As I stood there waiting for my turn, my insides were palpitating in an arrhythmic beat - Boom, boom-boom, BOOM, boom-BOOM. A strange strobing light hit the murderous geek and he seemed to disappear with a creepy effect like an ugly powerpoint slide transition. There was even an odd sound. I looked up to find the origin of the beam and saw a flying man in a teal leotard and green hooded cape. He turned and raced towards the White Lady.

As I was distracted watching the aerial battle, a rat-faced woman slammed into me and started gnawing on my elbow. I pushed her away and ran.

Ten minutes later I was hunkered down under an overturned newspaper truck. According to the Canberra Times it was February 24th, 2011. I had no idea how I'd ended up in Canberra, which I thought was the capital of freaking Australia when I went to bed in my apartment in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The second mystery was the date. I know it was April 2020 when I went to sleep.

The third and most important mystery was the giant white winged alien lady battling honest to god superheroes in the sky above the city. And she was obviously winning. Wherever her mind-jarring scream was heard those same heroes turned on each other and on the panicking crowds of normal looking people. Of course, those same normal looking people were just as liable to grab a piece of rubble or pull out a kitchen know and start making like Jason on everyone in reach.

For some reason, the White Lady's scream, while painful, was not making me insane. Or maybe it was and this whole thing was a massive hallucination. But I was not trying to kill anyone. I was trying to hide.

As I was reading, I heard a savage snarling and a large man wearing an ox skull mask and some sort of body armor shoved the overturned truck aside, exposing me to him and the three other costumed crazies hot on his heels.

He grabbed me. I was able to jerk my arm out of his grasp before he could bring it to his foaming, blood-flecked mouth. I landed on my ass and was trying to scramble out of his way when a shoot rang out and a large hole appeared in his skull mask.

_Prong deceased L4._

The Ox man was dragged back by one of the super-zombies behind him. The third surged ahead and chased me as I got to my feet. He was wearing what looked like robes from Harry Potter, though they were torn and bloodied. And instead of a wand he was waving a jagged rod of rebar. Another shot from behind rang out and Mr. Wizard dropped.

_Epoch deceased L4._ came from a band on his arm.

As my insides pounded – boom-BOOM - I looked back and spotted a tween girl perched on the roof of a nearby shop, working the action on a large hunting rifle. She pointed the weapon at me, aiming though the scope, then moved to target the dark-skinned woman in overalls that had finally cleared the truck. She was racing towards me, red and green liquid flowing out of her hands. Another shoot cracked and she dropped as half her head seemed to splash onto the street.

_Tempera deceased L4._

Boom.

Bang!

That last one was the little girl shooting at me. I felt what must have been a ricochet, or a bit of debris from a near miss ping on my shoulder. That got my attention and reminded me running was a good idea.

I have no idea how long I ran. It was like Dante's Inferno mashed up with World War Z. I tried hard not to look at what was happening around me.

"Hey!"

I stopped. A very large, extremely big, extremely broad-shouldered man in a grey jumpsuit, giant work boots, and a hard hat was pointing at me.

"You crazy or sane?"

"Sane, I think."

"Then head towards the shopping centre. They're evac'ing people. But ya gotta hurry."

"Thanks!" I saluted and turned in the direction he indicated.

"Arrrgh!" A twelve-foot-tall saurian biped leapt from a nearby roof. The big man took the attack, sticking his forearm into the giant maw. I was amazed there was no sign that the massive fangs were ripping the flesh from the man's limb. I looked round for some way to help him. I saw a brick on the ground and bent to pick it up.

_This is really stupid!_ I told myself. But the guy was the first friendly voice I'd heard since I woke here. As I straighten and cocked my arm back to throw, a locomotive engine slammed into the ground from on high.

_Roughneck deceased L2._

_Saurian deceased L2._

BOOM.

I guess I was getting used to this as I only felt one pulse.

Saddened, I moved towards the evac point.

I saw a helicopter take off in the distance. Dozens, maybe hundreds of people were all heading towards the mall. The military or maybe police had cordoned of the area and were letting people through slowly. There seemed to be some sort of examination involved. Two costumed people, one man, one woman, were talking to each person.

I saw them down check someone, who the soldier types quickly hustled away. Then they down checked another, and another. Suddenly the anxiety in the area skyrocketed as they closed the access point.

"This is only temporary," a soldier said. "We will resume the evacuation as soon as we can.

"No!"

"Don't leave us!"

"Rawrrr!"

Suddenly the crowd turned into a mob as they rushed the gates. The soldiers tried to push people back without harming them.

More people pushed forward. Folk were getting pushed, even trampled. I was getting jostled, but not harmed.

Someone fired a gun. It might have been from the crowd or the soldiers. Whoever it was doesn't matter. Madness bloomed.

I rode the flow of the mob through the check points and past the soldiers. The last helicopter took off, with people dangling from the struts.

"No!" I cried, along with everyone else. I reached for it reflexively.

Unlike everyone else, I started to float after the receding aircraft.

The crowd growled.

I flew away.

I was not alone in the air. Deciding not to follow the helicopter, I flew away from everything I could see in the sky. Especially the White Lady.

At this point I decided this must all be a dream. I had experienced flying dreams before. Making like Superman, I zoomed into the sunset.

At first, I thought someone was following me, but if they were, I outpaced them easily. Or maybe the White Lady got them. Anything can happen in a dream.

I continued to fly as it got dark. There were not a lot of lights on the ground, but I could see some towns in the distance.

Eventually I stopped at the largest collection of lights as I flew west. I landed in a dark area. When I saw the town name, Wagga Wagga, I smiled thinking of Gilderoy Lockhart and his werewolf. Then I noticed how many police cars and army vehicles were moving on the street, with a corresponding dearth of civilian traffic.

**"Stay off the streets. Do not approach any strangers. The Simurgh may have controlled any refugees from the Capital. DO NOT approach any refugees."** The recording was playing from all the speaker of the various official vehicles.

_The Simurgh?_ I thought. _I've heard of that … somewhere._

I stayed in the shadows, figuring that I counted as a refugee from the capital.

_Worm!_

I remembered that story. Hugh Childers had recommended it so many times I finally tried reading it. I don't recall how far I got. It was so damned depressing. And the governmental setting the writer created really didn't fit any of the political structures or theories I was studying, which just made me want to yell at him.

The name had come up recently. Hugh had asked if I wanted to join his regular group for a Worm-based campaign of some sort. He wanted to use some new system he'd found online, the idea of which really turned me off, even if I'd liked the setting. But he'd kept bugging me saying he needed five players. I'm absolutely telling him no when I wake up.

If I recalled in Worm the Simurgh was some sort of psychic monster. Though I couldn't remember the specifics, I knew she was the stuff of nightmares, even in the story, killing supers by the hundreds.

_That must be the White Lady! _

_I'm dreaming I'm in Worm! _

_Why? Am I stressing or something?_

"Stay where you are!" Lights were suddenly shining on me from three directions. Soldiers were pointing their weapons at me. "DO NOT MOVE!"

I must have twitched. They opened fire.

Suddenly they were not there, though I could hear them approaching.

_What the fuck?_

I flew up silently and watched as they ambushed the spot I had been sitting.

Too weird.

I flew further west. I needed to wake up. Monsters, zombies, murder girls, mobs, and abandonment. Now being chased by the government. Classic nightmare stuff and I was tired of it. Even if it was also a flying dream. My psych professor would love it, if I could remember enough to write down.

Eventually I got sleepy. Hoping that would end the dream I landed in the middle of some scrub land. I'd always heard Australia was mostly dry plains and desert. I guess this qualified. Dry grass and stunted trees as far as the eye could see at night. I also remember there were lots of poisonous snakes and spiders in this part of the world. I hoped my dream would spare me those.

I sat with my back against a tree and closed my eyes, determined to wake up in my own bed.

A fucking kangaroo kicked me. That's how I woke up. There was a whole troop, or whatever the collective noun for a group of murderous marsupials was, surrounding me. The biggest one had somehow decided I was a threat to their welfare or territory or maybe just didn't like my face. For whatever reason he kicked me. Then he kicked me again. The really fucking odd thing was that I barely felt the blows.

But that didn't mean I was just going to take his shit.

I lunged forward, ready to punch him when spears of light shot out of my body in all directions. They impaled the beasts and sent them flying. Soon they were lost to sight in the grass. One of the spears was embedded in the tree behind me. I reached out and touched it. It felt slick like ice, but not cold. It lasted for a second or two, then absorbed into my hand.

I guess I was still dreaming.

I hoped I was still dreaming. It was day out, probably late morning, and I felt like I had slept several hours. If I was really awake, then something completely inexplicable had happened. I had somehow been dropped into a story. A really unpleasant story.

It also meant I had superpowers. Flight, toughness, light spears, some sort of precog, and who knows what else. I could feel strange energies roiling inside me. I remembered the palpitations I had felt during the madness yesterday. There was something of that same sort of fluttery potential.

_I really wished I knew what was going on. Where I was and how to get home. _

Flub'oom.

Big fluttering palpitation and suddenly I _knew_ I was not in a dream, or at least not my own dream. I was in Worm, though I had no idea how I got here. And the Geek Chic shirt guy was one of Hugh's gaming friends, so I might not be alone.

As for how to get home. I had no idea.


	2. Chapter 2

1.2

I never questioned my new certainty. I knew, without a doubt, that some power had dragged me and at least one of Hugh's gaming group members into this formerly fictional world. How that happened I had no way of knowing. But it had happened, and I needed to proceed with that idea as my new reality. And realize the only way this new circumstance was likely to change was if that same power sent me home.

I stood and started walking west, putting the sun over my shoulder. This was the same direction I had been flying. Given that the government seemed to have a hate on for people coming out of Canberra I did not want to risk being picked up on someone's radar, literally in this case. As I passed through the dry scrub. I considered my next move.

"Where am I going?" I asked myself. Yeah, one of my quirks was that I talked out loud when I was trying to figure shit out. I know it makes me sound a little crazy, but it was a habit I got on the long bike rides I used to take to get away from my feuding parents and the tension they bred in the house whether they were there or not. I used to ride the seven miles to the local library where I would spend the day immersed in reading and surfing the net. I usually stayed until they closed at 5pm then made my way home for dinner, hoping that one or more of the marital combatants would be working late or on a business trip, allowing me to eat in peace. When I started college at Ann Arbor, I knew people looked at me strangely for it, but it was just how I thought.

"First, I'm in the most depressing superhero story since Frank Miller had a drunken love child with Garth Ennis. Accept that and move on."

"Second, the only place name I remember from the story is Brockton Bay, which is in the States somewhere north of Boston. Other than that, nothing. No idea how close the world history and geography of this world were to mine."

"Also, Kaiju. Giant monsters periodically go out and smash a city or country. So, it's quite possible that the places I _am_ familiar with might have been here only until Monster #1, 2, or 3 wiped them from the map."

"That means I can get hold of a current map and pick some existing place to head towards, I can wander at random, or I can head towards the one place I know anything about. Of course, what I know about Brockton Bay is that it's some sort of crime-ridden, parahuman Hellmouth where all bad things gather, including Godzilla Jr., if I remember correctly."

"The question is – is anyplace else in this shit world better? A lot of the bad things that came to Brockton Bay arrived from elsewhere in the country, if I am remembering correctly. So other places are not all sunshine and chocolate either."

I guess I was going to the Bay.

Joy.

"Fuck!" I yelled, startling several nearby critters into flight. "Why the fuck am I here?"

The last time I had even thought of this story was when Hugh had invited me to join a Worm-based game where we were supposed to play ourselves with superpowers. Given Geek Guy was also here, I have to think this is somehow all Hugh's fault. I have no idea how accurate the guess was, but I needed someone to blame and he was the best target I could think of. Something in my mind was telling me I was at least partially correct. "Fuck Hugh!"

I wandered in silence for another hour. It was odd that I was not getting tired, hungry, or thirsty. It was warm, but I was not sweating or getting red from the summer sun. More signs of powers I decided. Uncertain of the full extent of my abilities, I felt it likely there was more I could do than I had so far demonstrated.

"I wonder if I can teleport," I muttered. "I don't know how fast I can fly, but it must be 10,000 miles or more between Australia and New England, maybe 20,000. I didn't notice any sonic booms when I was getting out of Dodge-Down-Under, so I doubt I was doing Mach anything. That means days instead of hours for the trip and a fuck-ton of that is over ocean. And who knows who's monitoring that airspace. It'd be so much easier if I could just BAMF! to Boston and make my way from there."

_Flub'oom._

Big fluttering palpitation and suddenly I was spinning like a top through flashing light and darkness. Some uncountable time later I was dumped in darkness. After tossing everything I had not eaten in the last two days I looked up to see the gates to Harvard University, my old reach school. I had even toured the campus that summer, but had not been accepted. I looked around and saw I was in Harvard Square, in the shadow of the little souvenir shop right across from the gates.

I hoped for a second that I was somehow back in my own world until I noticed the poster in the window showing some mouse-masked woman eating a sword-shaped ice-cream bar. Not something I'd ever seen. Mouse Protector? Who or what was a Mouse Protector?

I checked out the Boston Herald in a vending machine outside the store's entrance. It was dated February 24, 2011 and the Simurgh Attack on Cabrera was the headline. It seems the entire city had been quarantined due to the monster's propensity to mind control civilians into doing horrible things as much as several years after the attack. I had seen that happening on the ground. It had not seemed to affect me at the time.

I hoped that continued to be the case. I was not willing to turn myself over to authorities who were likely to toss me in an oubliette just because they had no way of knowing if I was affected and it was better to be safe than sorry. I had to do something to hide my ever having been in Australia.

I wandered down the street, looking for a clothes store that might be open. The analog clock in the Square said it was just after 9:20. Given the dark sky, I assumed that was p.m. Most the stores were closed. Snow was piled on the sides of the streets and sidewalks, and the temperature was several degrees below freezing (according to the Cambridge Savings Bank). While I was not feeling the cold, I looked even stranger in my t-shirt and sleep shorts. In a college town, few dress choices merited much comment, even something as outrageously stupid as mine. It could just be a frat prank gone wrong. But in the winter someone, possibly a policeman, was likely to say something for my own good.

I found a GAP store and went around to the back. As I was looking for a shop, I remembered I had no money on me, nor my wallet with my two credit cards that were several years from being issued, nor my driver's license which would proclaim me to be eleven years old. So maybe it was better I had nothing so incriminating. Instead I was going to have to steal something to wear. And that sucked. I was a fugitive, now I was going to be a thief as well. "Fuck Hugh."

After the last employee left and the store had been dark for an hour, I looked through the window from a shadowed doorway. I was going to try to teleport again. This time, I seemed to project a shadowy force that formed into a duplicate of my body. I was able to maneuver the shadow-me through the store, seeing through its eyes. The darkness inside the store was no impediment. When I was in the storeroom, invisible to any window, I swapped places with the shadow duplicate.

It was odd. I didn't know what I could do, but once I was doing it, the skills came naturally. Inside the storeroom I quickly found a camo nylon backpack, and filled it with underwear, jeans, shirts, sweats, hoodies, and socks. The only shoes I could find were leather flip flops. I added a couple of scarves, gloves, beanies, and a dark baseball cap. I dressed in three layers and donned a black city parka and beanie over it all. If I had thought there was any cash on the premises I would have taken that as well. I was not proud. I was desperate.

Using my shadow clone, I teleported out of the building with none the wiser, I hoped. Once outside, I took to the air. I really wish I could be invisible, including to radar.

_Flub'oom._

Big fluttering palpitation.

I was beginning to sense a pattern. With no way to check, I assumed I was now harder to detect. If I was right, it meant I could increase my powerset. I don't know if it was a onetime per power thing or what. But I was going to take advantage of what I thought was happening while it may have been happening.

"That didn't even make sense in _my_ head." I muttered.

It wasn't until after I was north of Boston, I realized I still had no idea where Brockton Bay was. I'd forgotten to find a map. Instead, every time I saw a sizable bunch of lights gathered around a bay or harbor, I landed and checked the signs. It was almost dawn by the time I found my target.

I was flying high, several thousand feet up I estimated. Brockton Bay, from this distance, looked something like Greater Lansing all squashed up against the Atlantic Ocean. Maybe a reverse San Diego, only smaller and a lot more depressing? I wondered if I was imagining the invisible miasma of misery and hopelessness. Or maybe projecting?

There was a shining jewel in the Bay that seemed to be linked to the mainland with a rainbow bridge, one that was getting a fair bit of traffic as the workday commenced. I figured the coruscating monument to mediocrity was somehow connected to the government superteam whose name escaped me. I could not remember any other group that would waste that amount of money on something so tempting to the giant sea monster that was destroying coastal cities around the world.

I definitely did not want them to see me flying into town, so I reversed direction and flew back the way I had come. I figured I could land and hitch a ride or somehow make my way to Brockton Bay without alerting the authorities.

People can surprise you. Someone stopped and offered me a ride as I walked along the side of Route 1A. I was on the Massachusetts side of the border, just past a gas station, about fifteen miles south of Brockton Bay. It was a pair of young professionals driving a large black SUV. I did not get a danger vibe off them, so I got in.

"You going to BBSU?" Kent asked. He was a waspy looking white guy somewhere in his mid-twenties. He was wearing a suit with no tie. He was driving but kept looking at me in the mirror.

"You look like a student," Missy added. She was a tall, buxom blond wearing business casual, as my career counselor called it. I assumed she was near the same age as Kent. There were a lot of brochures from a pharma company called Medhall. The pair had already told me they were drug reps who handled clinics and small hospitals in northern Massachusetts.

"We hire a lot of students either as interns or in our new product development studies. You can make decent money doing that," Kent continued.

"If you ever need a little extra," Missy confirmed. "It's easy and you can study while participating."

"I'll have to look into that." I replied. I knew guys back in Michigan who guinea pigged for cash. "I admit I could use a little extra right now."

"Really?" Kent asked, looking at me in the mirror. A passing car laid on the horn as we started to drift into the oncoming lane.

"Down boy," Missy said, slapping her partner's shoulder. He got the vehicle under control. Then she turned to me. "We're not due back at the office until noon, and I know a little place just up the road if you're interested in making a little cash and having some fun. We have some great pills for just such an occasion. And I love to help demonstrate them to our clients."

I was stunned. I'd never been propositioned so blatantly. Or was it solicited? I looked at them. They were ok looking, but I wasn't interested in turning tricks or having a happy Viagra party. "I think I need to get back to campus as soon I can. My roommate must be freaking. I was supposed to be back yesterday but got caught up in some weird shit."

"Ohhh …" Kent crooned. "That sounds interesting. You must share."

"I'm not sure anyone would believe it. Let's just say it involved capes, guns, and way too much running."

"That sounds sick." Missy said. I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. "You mean you got out of Brockton Bay and still had cape troubles. That sucks. But Boston is pretty bad that way too. That's why I never go there."

"Yeah, it's the capes, not your psycho ex, Pat." Kent chided. "Unless you're saying Pat's a cape."

"Oh god, what a horrible thought."

They managed to rag on Pat for the rest of the trip. By the time they dropped me off in front of the Brocton Bay State University bookstore I was still wondering if Pat was a guy or a girl. I'm not sure it mattered to either of the other two.

"Hey, take my card," Kent said as I shook his hand in thanks for the ride. "Let me know if you are interested in one of our studies or … something."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll do that."

"Later," Missy said, miming the "call me" sign.

I was not sure if that had been a good ride or not. Either way it had gotten me to Brockton Bay.

Now what do I do?


	3. Chapter 3

1.3

Brockton Bay sucks.

I could offer many specifics to back up this assertion, but I think one instance is reason enough. Brockton Bay State University has a campus curfew of 11pm, after which anyone found on campus is held in the campus jail. That's right the _campus jail_!

After a long day wandering campus and the surrounding neighborhoods, I decided to rest a bit in the library. I was not bone tired some much as soul weary. It was late and the building was barely occupied. I closed my eyes and dozed.

In Ann Arbor I had fallen asleep in the undergraduate library more than once, only to wake sometime in the early morning, usually on my own, occasionally by a startled librarian. I was hoping I might find similar shelter in the BBSU library while I tried to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.

Instead I woke to a pair of shotguns pointed at my face. The shotguns were carried by university police in full riot gear.

"JESUS!" I screamed and jumped.

"Don't move!" one of them shouted.

"Down on the floor!" the other contradicted.

I chose to obey the first officer, but did not resist when the second grabbed my shoulder and jerked me off the couch I had been lying on.

They zip-tied my hands behind my back. With my newfound strength I knew I could easily snap the plastic or prevent them from being put on the in the first place, but I did not want to start any trouble. Instead I cooperated.

"I'm not resisting," I said as calmly as I could. Once secured, the two armored juggernauts dragged me out of the library and threw me in the small jail. They did not even ask for my name or ID. The cell was the size of a small classroom, littered with chairs and futons, holding a half dozen other young people. All were male.

"Ohh…Another scofflaw joins the gang," snarked one guy seated on a sofa, playing with his phone.

"Welcome to the Birdcage East-North-East," offered the fellow sitting next to the first. They looked like stoners or demi-goths; ragged, black jeans, dark hoodies, skinny with dark hair and pale skin.

"Is this the college version of durance vile?" I asked.

"That or a really cheap hotel room," the second guy replied.

"Not so cheap," the first argued. "Gonna cost you $40 to get out."

"Shit," I said, patting my pockets. "Some fucker took my wallet."

"One of the cops?" the first guy asked.

"I doubt it. Someone must have picked my pocket while I was sleeping. Shit! My phone's gone too."

"Damn, that sucks." The second guy said. "I'm Shelby. This is Lev Weintraub."

"Caleb Cross." I offered my hand. They both shook it with bemused expressions. I know it is old fashioned, but my grandfather taught me to always shake hands. 'People will remember you better.' And he was a successful politician, so I took his advice to heart.

"Might as well get comfortable," Shelby suggested. "They won't let anyone out until 6 a.m."

"Thanks," I flopped onto a folded up futon, my back to the wall. "You seem to know the place pretty well?"

"Been in once or twice, once or twice," he replied.

Lev snickered. "More like ten or twelve times."

"Not my fault fucknuts keeps locking me out."

"Not his fault you keep forgetting your keys."

"I tell you, he steals them. Trying to get me kicked out," Shelby argued.

"Yeah. Sure." Lev turned to me. "It's February. Even if you're a freshman, how have you not been in here yet? Some sort of goodie?"

"No. I'm just visiting from UofM. Was thinking of transferring next year." I started putting together a cover story. Maybe there was even a Caleb Cross at UofM and I could borrow his identity.

"Coming to Brockton Bay by choice? What are you, a fan of Nazis or something?" Lev sounded offended. Given his Jewish name I could guess why.

"Fuck no!" I denied. "But I'm interested in the interrelations of supers and governments and the social impact of both."

"And Brockton Bay has been impacted all over by capes and shit. Sounds like putting your nuts in a vice because you are interested in the intersectionality of metallurgy and sexual reproduction, but whatever floats your … nope no boats floating in the Bay anymore either." Shelby seemed to specialize in sarcasm.

"Yeah, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," I said, head hanging down.

"Listen," Lev said. "I'll help you get out of here in the morning. Then you come with me. You are screwed without any money or ID. I know someone that might be able to help. Besides, she like to talk about social impact and governments and shit."

"Ok …" I had no other plans. I pulled the futon out flat and rolled to face the wall as the two guys kept talking quietly.

Sleep eluded me. My mind wandered. After a few hours I felt a fluttering of the energy inside me. With a _flu-chunk!_ it seemed to split and slam into … several somethings.

Exploring the feelings I found that my thinking was clearer, my hunger was fading, and I was more aware of my various powers. I could catalogue them easily. Enhanced strength … Regeneration … Increased reaction speed … Ramping damage reduction … Flight … Shadow teleport … Shadow clones … Aerokinesis … Hard light projectiles … Limited time manipulation … Bladed hands … Paint production … Situational awareness … Invisibility … Propulsion technology development.

All the powers felt just a little stronger, faster, better in some way.

A few minutes later I could feel the fluttering again.

Most of the powers seemed to be connected to the idea of a person. Capes I had encountered during the Simurgh attack.

Capes that had died near me.

I could remember their names from the wristband broadcast – Carnal, Epoch, Genoscythe, Kazikli Bey, Prong, Roughneck, Seir, Stinger, Tempera, and True Blue.

I think I stole their powers. Or maybe inherited them as they were dead first. I was a power harvester.

I also had a few powers, like my preternatural situational awareness and invisibility, which seemed to originate from me somehow. It seemed I could create new powers, perhaps in times of great need. And these powers improved over time.

I wondered if I could release a power. I could imagine powers I did not want to keep, either because they were too obvious, like extra arms, or something I was not likely to use because of its lethality. I looked at my bladed hands power. I really did not need to be some sort of cut rate Wolverine. Maybe I can let it go. On the other hand, I have no proof that powers are permanent. There is no reason not to keep it. Wolverine was an effective character, and I can choose not to use the blades on people.

Why and I thinking about fighting? I haven't been in a fight since middle school. I know this is a super world and supers fight a lot, but that doesn't mean I have to.

Think of something else.

I need money, ID, and a place to sleep. Though I don't seem to be sleeping much.

If I can get to the internet I can see if "I" live in this world. If so, maybe I can borrow my own identity for a while.

As for money … I have super powers. Surely there is a way to use them to make money in this world without stealing or working for the government. I mean Superman could squeeze out diamonds.

_Flub'oom!_

I felt a power coalesce. I could sense the earth beneath the building. My awareness extended deep into the crust. The multitude of materials and minerals each had their distinct signature. I perceived the carbon throughout the stratum. Cued by my super situational awareness I caused an amount of the pure element to gather and compressed it. After several moments the mass of carbon fused in to a sphere of pure diamond about the size of a marble. I used my power to bring it close to the surface, near a shrub beside the front door of the police office.

If my power was accurate, and that wasn't all a dream, I had a new source of income.

I mused for a while on the wealth the ability to find or create rare minerals could bring, and how I could best realize that windfall. But money had never been a driving factor in my plans and decisions.

I wanted to help people. People, both individually and collectively, had tremendous power. Great leaders throughout history had helped actualize that power. I wanted to be such a leader someday, or to support the work of one, if I never made it to the top.

I had to imaging that the advent of superhuman abilities had not extinguished the power of collective action. The way the author ignored or minimized this power of the people in favor of the capes and monsters was one of the reasons I stopped reading Worm. Now I was here. I had the power of a dozen capes, but that did not make me a leader or help me empower others.

By morning I knew that was what I wanted to do, help organize the people to take the power back from the corrupt government and criminal capes. Money generated from created minerals could help fund in the efforts.

I could start in Brockton Bay, since I had some idea of the players here. There were the gangs – the druggies, the Nazis, and the Dragon. There were the government capes, who had power but used it badly. And there were people like the Dockworkers that had already organized to work towards a better future, if they could be protected from the super threats.

I might start in Brockton Bay, but if we could be successful here a movement could grow. It could sweep the nation. And I could help.

But I couldn't do it alone. Even if I was Superman-level powerful, and I didn't think I was, one person couldn't help all those people. They had to help themselves. But one person could begin to shape the opportunity for the people to do so. That was what I could try to do.

"Hey, Michigan!" Lev nudged me with a foot.

"Wakey, wakey," Shelby added. "Almost time to spring the jailbirds."

"Ugh," I pretended to be sleepier than I was. "I'm up."

"Just follow us and don't say anything if you can help it." Shelby ordered.

"Ok."

We joined the line of walking dead heading out of the cell door. The procession led to a desk where a police officer was taking money. Lev pulled out a credit card and paid for the three of us. No names or other information was required.

"Student services won't let them take names as that could lead to a record that might interfere with BBSU graduates getting internships or jobs after graduation. It was a huge mess a couple of years ago when the new President agreed to that policy." Lev informed me as we left the building.

I stopped, ostensibly to tie my shoe, but really to unearth the diamond I had created during the night. Without looking, I put it in my pocket.

"So it is basically a no-tell motel for the involuntary?" I asked.

"A steady revenue stream for what is usually a money sink for the University," Shelby added. "They've convinced the state that it somehow helps reduce tuitions, which the state system argues is a net benefit to the students."

"As long as you don't worry about the fifth amendment or due process," Lev complained. His voice was bitter. "Not that the Constitution means anything these days."

"What do you mean?" I asked. This was an area of particular interest to me.

"My family came to the US after the Cologne attack in '96," Lev started. "One of the things we had to do was take the citizenship test with lots of questions about the Constitution. I took it and passed it first try when I turned 18. I know what the Constitution says. I know what it allows and forbids."

His voice had a certain rhythm like he'd said this many times before. "Things like condemning US criminals to indefinite incarceration in a foreign prison are not allowed. Things like kill orders are not allowed. Things like masked accusers in court are not allowed. But the PRT and their backers don't care about the Constitution. They care about bureaucratic administrivia. The Protectorate doesn't care about the Constitution. They care about supervillains and Endbringers."

"They care about justifying their continued existence and funding," Shelby interrupted. "Anything that allows that is a good thing in their mind. Anything that threatens it …" He shrugged fatalistically.

"Damn," I muttered.

"Enough pontificating…" Shelby said. "I'm hungry. Come on Caleb, I'll buy you some breakfast."

After some eggs and toast in the student union I separated from the pair. They had class. But Lev agreed to meet with my at the same place at 3 p.m. to be introduced to someone he said should be able to help me.

I headed back to the library after washing up and changing clothes in the bathroom. I was glad I still had my stolen backpack.

I grabbed a book on diamonds and went back to the restroom. While locked in a stall I took the time to examine the diamond. I found I could us my geokinesis power to clean and shape the gemstone. After a few minutes I had something that looked something like a smaller version of the uncut Cullinan diamond. It was rough, but still completely clear. I had no idea how many carats it was.

Most of the morning was spent tracking down my dimensional doppelganger. He did not exist. Or at least I couldn't find any record of him. That was a bother.

I then looked up ways to establish a legal identity. With Endbringer attacks and other city killing hazards in this world, I had to assume there was some way to overcome obstacles such as a lack of birth certificate or social security number. Online I found it seemed mostly to have to do with getting a certain number of people to swear you are you in front of a judge who can establish a legal identity. That won't work for me. No one knows me.

Crap.

Maybe I didn't need an identity. I could live "off the grid".

I fingered the diamond in my pocket. I should not go broke.

That afternoon I met with Lev. He was accompanied by a striking woman with curly black hair and olive skin. She was wearing a short sleeved shirt showing off muscular arms and a modest bust. Her golden eyes started tracking me as soon as Lev pointed me out. Her intensity was almost intimidating.

"Hi Lev," I said.

"Caleb, this is my cousin Zada Rosenthal, from Israel. Zada, this is Caleb, a visitor from Michigan. He's lost all his ID and is thinking about moving to the Bay." With that introduction. Lev sat back down and said nothing.

"Hello," I said, holding out my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"And you," she replied, taking my hand in hers. Her grip was stronger than one expects from a woman her size. Standing she was about 5'7" or so, three inches shorter than me. There was a kind of burr in her voice rather than a true accent.

We sat at the same time. "Lev seems to think you might be able to help me. I'm not sure how."

"I know some people who work with refugees. They might be able to help you. But you shouldn't need that kind of help. You should be able to call family or friends from home, no? I can lend you a phone if you need." She pulled one out and slide it across the table to me. I looked at it, then at her. She had a definite smirk on her face.

Shit. So much for my cover story. "Yeah, I don't think that is gonna work for me. Got no one to call."

"No family or friends? What about teachers or roommates. Lev says you're at the University there."

I sighed. "It's … complicated."

"Complicated is interesting." She raised her eyebrows. "Let's walk. You can tell me your story on the way."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"We are taking over the President's office."


	4. Chapter 4

1.4

"What!" I had heard of student activists taking over university administration offices as a form of attention getting protests in the past. I just can't remember it ever turning out well. And given the willingness those campus cops showed for sticking shotguns in a sleeping student's face, I could easily imagine them overreacting in a highly dangerous manner. "You're shitting me."

"Yeah, I am," Zada said with a grin. "The BBSU president is so far down the food chain that occupying his office wouldn't be noticed, probably not even on campus."

"Yeah, that never works," I agreed. "Out of curiosity, what would you be protesting if you were occupying his office?"

"Her …"

"Sorry?"

"Her office. The president is a woman."

"Ah, sorry."

"There are a lot of things wrong with this world, but Dr. Tillman is in no positon to do anything about anything that is not on campus. Our concerns are a bit broader than that." I looked at Zada. Something about her made her every utterance sound profound and full of import.

"Poverty. Social injustice. Racism. Sexism, Environmental destruction …" I started listing.

"Government corruption." Lev kicked in.

"All that and more," she agreed. "But those have been part of the human condition throughout history. It is the presence of parahuman and paranormal dangers that exacerbate those and other problems."

Despite having skimmed the first bit of Worm, I never really considered how the presence of supers and kaiju might impact long standing issues as well as creating new ones.

"You mentioned studying the social impact of capes was why you were considering coming to Brockton Bay. That's why I wanted you to meet Zada. Cape issues are her thing." Lev smiled, proud of himself.

"Is that what you said?" She looked at me. "I thought you were in need of an ID and maybe some other help. Of course it is complicated." Her teasing grin returned.

"Yeah …" I sighed.

"Come on," she motioned to a ramshackle apartment building. New Dawn Co-op was painted in a mural above the door. "Let's talk somewhere quieter."

Inside was a large common area where some people were setting up tables and chairs. I could smell lentils and cabbage cooking nearby. Zada waved at one of the workers and led me towards an elevator. The three of us rode to the sixth floor and took a flight of stairs to a roof access door. Outside was a lounging area with unlit gas heaters, outdoor carpeting, wooden tables and chairs. No one else was on the roof.

The view was actually pretty nice. This was the second tallest building in the area and you could see over the campus. Even in a city like Brockton Bay the university campus had green spaces, trees, and interesting architecture. You could see there had once been money in the area. I caught a glimpse of a flying woman, surrounded by red light on the other end of campus. I could feel her power even from that distance. It pulled to me, but I did not reach out to touch it. I had no idea what that might do.

"Laserdream." Zada's tone was neutral.

"What?" I asked.

"In the distance," she pointed. "That's Crystal Pelham, better known as Laserdream of New Wave."

"They're a local hero team," Lev supplied. "You might not have heard of them. Best known for unmasking the whole team voluntarily."

"Which had its own price," Zada added.

I had no recollection of any of those names from the story. Must not have come across them. I watched as she landed in one of the commons and lost her glowing shield. I could still feel her as she entered one of the buildings.

"They're not so bad," Lev said. "They don't work for the government and they try to do the right thing."

"They do almost nothing," Zada argued. "You just like them because they're pretty."

Lev just grinned and shrugged.

Zada turned her gaze to me. She looked into my eyes. I could imagine her trying to push into my mind to read the truth about me. I could not sense any powers in her, like I could in the flying woman, so I assumed she was just really intense rather than parahuman. "So tell me your real story."

I hesitated. My reading of science fiction and comics all told me that if my secrets got out, the government would be after me. I was, after all, an extradimensional visitor with strange powers. I couldn't tell anyone.

But that was me responding to fictional threats. This was a world where there were lots of people with strange powers, and as far as I knew there could be dozens of extradimensional refugees as well. I did not have an identity or family to protect. If worse came to worse I could just turn invisible and fly or teleport away. Start over elsewhere. I really had nothing to loose.

"My story is both complicated and unbelievable. But I'll tell you the truth and you tell me what I can do."

"You're a cape?" Lev guessed.

"Maybe?" I said. "Let me start from the beginning. My name is Caleb Cross. I am a student at UofM. Three days ago I went to sleep in my dorm room in Ann Arbor. The date was September 23, 2020 …"

"Wha …" Lev started.

"Shhh!" Zada poked him. "Go on."

"I woke up in the middle of the Simurgh attack on Canberra." I stopped, knowing this was a major admission. From the media I had been watching in the library I knew many people considered Simurgh victims to be time bombs waiting to go off at the worst possible moment.

Lev inched behind Zada. She tensed, but did not move otherwise. Her eyes were focused on mine like lasers.

"How long you were exposed to the Simurgh's song?" she snapped.

"18 minutes and 34 seconds," I answered. "How the fuck do I know that?" I asked myself out loud.

"Thinker bullshit?" Lev replied quietly.

Zada's eyes unfocused and tracked back and forth, like she was reading from a screen we could not see. After fifty-two seconds she nodded her head. "If the open-source data is correct, that is short enough time that you should not be in danger. The PRT allows their heroes up to 25 minutes exposure."

Lev relaxed visibly. If Zada said I was safe, he seemed to believe her.

"But being safe by their own rules won't stop the PRT from trying to throw you into the nearest quarantine zone, or just shooting you out of hand, if they should find you." Zada added, her voice rising. "Damn it. This sort of enforced quarantine is just another example of the illegal overreach the PRT is responsible for."

"Zads …" Lev poked her.

"Ok … ok." She held up a placating hand. "What happened after you woke up?"

"Someone threw a building at me," I replied. "People were dying all around me. I had no idea what was happening. In my world we don't have Endbringers and supers are just fiction. I was terrified, justifiably so I think, so I ran."

"I ran as fast as I could, avoiding people trying to kill me and each other all around me. I ran until I got to a helicopter which was supposed to get people out of the area, only for it to take off, leaving us behind."

"That was when I discovered I could fly. I flew away from the madness and into the bush. The next day I discovered I could teleport and ended up in Boston. That was two days ago."

"Basically this is not my world. I don't know how I got here or how to get home. And I have some super powers." I finished. "I don't know what to do next."

"Are you from Earth Aleph?" Lev asked.

"No, they have capes too," Zada answered for me. "You must be from somewhere further in the multiverse. Ziz must have brought you here."

"Wait! What are you talking about? You have other extradimensional people here?"

"No," Zada spoke calmly. "We've known about the multiverse and have had information commerce with one other dimension for more than twenty years. So having someone cross over is not outside the realm of possibility. And if anyone could do it, it's probably Ziz."

"So you believe me?"

"I do. I have ways of knowing if you were lying. And you're not."

"How did you end up in Brockton Bay? You were in Boston, you said," Lev asked.

I thought for a moment. The only thing I had not told them was the in my world Worm was a story I had sort of read. I did not want to go there, but had no good reason to lie. "It is the only place I had heard of that is not in my world. Uh … this is going to sound really weird, even weirder than the rest. But it's true. In my world, this world is the setting from a novel called Worm. It is set in Brockton Bay."

"And you've read this novel? You know about our world?" Zada's voice was flat.

"Sort of. I read bits of it some time ago and don't remember much of what I read. I didn't like the story."

"But you remember Brockton Bay?" she asked.

"The only details I have about this world are pretty much about Brockton Bay. So I figured this would be the best, or least worst, place to start."

"Better the devil you know?" Zada snarked.

"Something like that."

"You picked a shithole. If you can go anywhere in the world why not Tahiti or Paris or …" Lev started.

"I have no ideas if they exist here or if they are full of dangers worse than this place. I mean I vaguely remember there are monsters in Africa and … Russia or China maybe? I just know that this place exists and a little about the threats here." I was feeling defensive and wondering if I had made a mistake. I had to go somewhere.

"Enough Lev." His mouth snapped shut. Zada had what my uncle called command presence. "You have a lot of choices. You also have a lot of needs. Perhaps we can help meet some of those needs, but you represent a risk to us if we do."

"What sort of risk? I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You are legally a fugitive from a quarantine zone. Just talking to you puts us in Master/Stranger holding for an indefinite period if the Protectorate or PRT find out."

"Shit!" I cried. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'll leave." I started to rise from the seat, floating several inches above the wood.

"No!" Zada barked and I dropped back down. "That choice is ours to make. I choose to help you, as long as you are not an immediate danger to me or my group. I think you may be able to help us as we help you."

"What group and what sort of help?" I asked, suddenly suspicious. I know people can be charitable and benevolent. But they can also be greedy and dangerous.

"I lead a political action group called New Dawn," Zada said. "We try to help the people of the Bay though community organizing and political action. We are non-violent, which means when we run afoul of one of the gangs we are often forced to retreat or take a beating."

"Ok," I said. "What can I do?"

"Just having a cape with us might cause the gangs to avoid us." Lev answered.

"On the other hand it might also prompt the gangs to bring in their capes, leading to an escalating cycle of violence. Something we are anxious to avoid." Zada started biting at her thumbnail. "I don't know what you can do, so I cannot make plans around your abilities. But, if you commit to helping us as you can, we will provide you with papers establishing a legal identity as well as offering a room and food until you get on your feet. What do you say?"

"I am happy to help people, as long as we don't cross any lines," I replied. "We'll have to talk more to determine if my lines and yours are compatible."

"Great!" Zada smiled at me. My heart fluttered which had nothing to do with any powers. I suspected she was older than me and likely was involved elsewhere. But her sheer presence was palpable and I was immediately attracted. "Join us for dinner and we can tell you about what we do."

That night I struggled to fall asleep in the mostly comfortable bed Zada had provided in a room on the third floor. It was no bigger than my dorm room, but it was a single so I had more room for my meager effects. They had even provided me with some "gently used" shoes from a community chest so I could toss my stolen flip flops.

"Fuck!' I grunted as I pushed out of bed. I found I did not need much sleep anymore. I walked over the desk. My shirt and pants were hung over the chair. Reaching into the pants pocket I pulled out the diamond. I'd not mentioned it to Zada or her people, though I wondered if they could help me find a way to sell it. If so I might be able to produce a steady, though limited, stream of gems and gold to peddle through their contacts to help fund New Dawn.

I dressed and left the room, heading for the roof. Once there I took off, turning invisible to avoid any issues with the authorities.

"As long as I keep the Canberra origin secret, I'm just another cape in this world." My monologue helped me think things through. "No way do I want to join with the hero teams, but maybe I can do some good on my own."

"So you're going to bust drug dealers and pimps?"

"I don't like the idea of pimps and have no idea what economic injustices are driving the drug dealers and their customers. So no. Not that."

"Then what?"

"I can intervene in violent crimes."

"How are you going to stop the bad guys? You have no idea how strong you are. Maybe you could kill someone with a punch."

"I should practice with my powers. Figure out what I can do and how I can do it safely."

"Or it might be better to stick to only helping in rescue efforts."

"More a fireman than a cop?"

"Maybe. That could work."

"Still need to practice."

"Where?"

"No idea. Not like I've been here before. And I don't recall any publicly available danger rooms in the story."

I looked around the city. It was night and I was pretty high up so it was hard to see any details in the intermittent lights below. I felt a palpation as I strained to see better.

_Flub'oom._

Suddenly I could see details from the buildings and streets below like I was standing next to them on a bright day. I could also hear the sounds of traffic and people all around. It was almost overwhelming but somehow I was able to process it through a connection to my situational awareness.

"Thinker bullshit," Lev had said. I remember thinker being one of the power classifications from the story, though I can't remember the thinker girl's name. I did remember she was a hacker. I realized that would be a great way to create a safe identity for myself, hacking. I decided to look for a computer.

It was after 11 p.m. so the campus resources were closed to me, as were the public libraries. I started scanning for an internet café, if they still had them. I really wished I had a smart phone. Might be my first purchase.

To my amazement I found an overnight gaming café where I could rent a computer. Of course then I recalled I had no money. So I memorized the address and continued to wander the city. "At least I can learn the lay of the land."

The neighborhoods got worse as I approached the water. Looking out over the bay I saw a mass of derelict ships in the water and abutting the shore. It looked like something from a post-apocalyptic movie. I could not immediately imagine what would leave such a mess in a modern city. It was not a recent disaster. From the rust and decay it was obvious that the hulks had been there for some time.

As I examined the sight I was startled by a woman's scream coming from the darkness below. The neighborhood near the ships was crowded with abandoned warehouses and other decrepit buildings. Only a handful of streetlights were still providing illumination, making the shadows deeper and the contrast more stark. The cry was coming from one of those shadows. I landed on a rooftop overlooking the alley where the scream originated.

Below there were three white guys in fatigue jackets and shaved heads toying with an older Hispanic woman. They had baseball bats in hand. One even had nails in the end of the wooden club. They kept prodding the woman with the bats, trying to get her to move in a direction while stopping her from escaping when she did.

"Come on and play, _chica_," the one with the eagle on the back of his jacket said. The others laughed and made kissing noises.

I did not know the details, but it was obvious this was not right. I created a half dozen shadow clones. They stepped partially into the scant illumination spreading over part of the alley from a naked bulb over a door.

"Ma'am, are you participating in this event willingly?" I did not know I could speak through the clones. My voice came from all of them, covering my real voice coming from the rooftop.

"No! Help me!" she yelled.

"Fuck, it's a cape!"

"Shadow Stalker!"

"Run!" the others seemed to agree with this idea. They all took to their heels, heading in three different directions. I watched them go without following them.

"Do you need police or ambulance?" I asked through the clones.

"No," she said and rushed away. I watched over her until she got to a better lit area and sat down at a bus stop.

While I watched I felt the energy inside me split and go into the various powers I had. I could tell each was getting stronger and more flexible. My thinker ability showed that each power improved by approximately 10%, whatever that meant.

After her bus came I decided to teleport back to the co-op. Not surprisingly, it was easier.


	5. Chapter 5

1.5

"Damn!" Lev muttered. He was weighting the bar of gold in his hand. Zada was looking at a diamond under a magnifying glass. In the past two days I had created three more diamonds and three ingots of gold.

"I was hoping you might know where I can sell these," I said. "I don't want to flood the market, but I can produce pretty much any rare mineral or gem if I can examine a sample beforehand."

It had taken a day of trying but I had learned I could consciously modify my powers, though it cost some portion of my energy reserve. I estimated that whatever unused energy reserve I had was automatically fed into my existing powers each night. The reserve would replenish itself by morning. Therefore, the more I spent modifying or creating powers, the less I had for general improvement.

After some experimentation I was able to modify my geokinesis power to include mineral creation. This somehow tied it to my bladed hands and paint production powers. Likely because the blades were basically created metal and the paint was created complex chemicals.

The only other new power I created was the ability to access the internet and phone networks without the use of any device. I got so frustrated not having net access, the power just appeared. Luckily, it came with the knowledge of hacking these systems as well. This seemed to tie to my technology creation and manipulation power, what Lev called "Tinker bullshit."

Zada had countered, "No, trump bullshit, as he seems to be pulling disparate powers out of his ass."

"You can make enough to flood the market?" Lev asked.

"I think so, though I have no real idea how much that would take."

"Neither do I, but I'd imagine tons and tons of it. If you can make anywhere near that much of any of these minerals we may want to look into ways to become a wholesale supplier rather than retailing or … however this stuff is usually sold." Lev seemed almost overwhelmed.

"But for now, where can we sell these to get some immediate cash?" I asked.

"I may know some people," Zada offered.

"You always know some people," Lev laughed. "I swear, I've been in this country almost a decade longer than you, but you have ten times more contacts than me."

"What can I say?" She flashed her mysterious smile. I had started to catalogue her various smiles, grins, and smirks. Her mouth, her whole face, was so expressive. "I should be able to get you some money, but it won't be full value."

"Some is better than none, which is what I have now." I replied. Retuning the valuables to a grocery bag I had found in the Co-op kitchen, I handed it to her. It was not so much that I trusted her, though I did, it was that I could replace the contents of the bag in a few minutes. If she absconded with them, it was no real loss to me and would prevent a later, greater betrayal.

"Ok," Zada said. "I'll see you at dinner. Andrew wanted to see you. I think he's in the business office."

"Great," I muttered. "All I can tell him is I'll have the money when you sell those."

"Relax. It's not about rent, though he'll be happy if he can get you on the books officially." She gave her teasing smirk. "He wants to see if you are available to man the New Dawn table on the Quad this week. It's getting close to mid-terms and most of our student members are busy in classes during the day."

"Sure. I'd be happy to."

"He's the one that manages the schedule, so go talk to him."

"Right. See you later?" I asked.

"I'll be her for dinner." She gave a little wave and headed back into the building.

We were alone on the roof again. There was a dusting of snow on the carpet and furniture. Even if Brockton Bay's climate benefited from a freak anomaly of the Gulf Stream as I had been told, it was still late February in New England. It had snowed lightly overnight and was predicted to continue on and off throughout the day. I wondered if that was why there were sudden openings at the outdoor information table.

"You need to be careful, man," Lev said, drawing my attention back from the campus laid out below me.

"What do you mean?"

"Zada," he said seriously. "She's easy to fall for, but she doesn't really do relationships. Not like most people, at least."

"What? Why are you …I'm not …"

"Yeah, yeah. She's seeing a girl from the Alliance right now, but that won't last. It never does. I think she was dating a guy in the Astronomy department before that. I can't keep up. Nothing ever last with her."

"Maybe she's still looking," I suggested. I knew she was probably out of my league, older, stunning, and so charismatic. But I was still interested. And as my grandfather always told me "You can't win if you don't play."

"Don't get me wrong. She might even go out with you. Given your origins, you're different from everyone else and she might like that. But just don't get stuck on her. She always moves on."

"Isn't she your cousin? Should you be talking about her like this?"

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with her behavior. It's who she is and reflects where she came from. I have no problem with it. But I'm not the one who'll be lurking outside her window in the rain, crying as she screws with someone else. I just don't want a cape capable of doing real damage getting all butthurt over her choices."

I looked at him. _What's the deal with this?_ I asked myself. I had discovered that was the basic question my main thinker power was set up to answer. I reviewed all of my interactions with Lev, with Zada, and what I exchanges had seen between Zada and other people.

He was right. Zada was a non-conformist and seemed to separate sexual relationships from emotional connection or political association. He was telling me this primarily in an effort to avoid my harming Zada. He was also concerned that a bad breakup might lead me to disassociate myself from New Dawn and they would lose the potential resources I could bring to their work. He even had some fondness for me as a person, but that was tempered with his doubts about my long-term stability due to my Simurgh exposure, and the low survival rates of non-Protectorate affiliated capes.

I was beginning to realize that my power seldom told me what I wanted to hear. People's motivations and inner fears and doubts were seldom satisfying to my expectations or gratifying to my ego.

"Alright, I hear you," I said. "Thanks for the heads up. What are you doing today?"

"Got class. As a matter of fact I have to run or I'll be late for Accounting."

"Catch you later."

"Yeah, later." He was still worried I'd taken his warning badly. But we were guys. Talking about feelings could only be done in small doses.

Andrew Park was the operations guru for New Dawn, both the political organization and the attached co-operative. He was a slightly overweight Korean guy with glasses, long hair, and a patchy beard. He was dressed like he had just stepped out of an L.L. Bean catalog, New England chic I guess.

"Zada said you wanted to talk with me?" I asked after entering the business office, a space that looked surprisingly professional given the general "alternative" feel of the rest of the Co-op.

He motioned me to one of the guest chairs while he finished clicking at something on the screen. After 98 seconds he turned to me. "Yeah, thanks for coming. Can you take the 10-2 or 2-6 shift at the info table today and tomorrow, maybe even for the whole week? You wouldn't be alone. We need at least two people there at all times, so if someone needs to go on a coffee or restroom break. It's really easy. You just have to sit there, hand out literature, answer questions, and shit like that. So when can I put you in?"

Andrew, never Andy, was a notorious fast-talker with a noticeable New England accent. I was worried it was racist of me to be a little surprised at the accent the first time I heard him. He looked at me expectantly. Way to close a sale, I thought. Assume agreement to get agreement.

"Uh sure. I can do either. And I should be available all week."

"Great. Can you do 10 o'clock today and tomorrow and 2 o'clock for the rest of the week?"

"Yeah. Just show up at 10 or is there setup before then?"

"You'll be working with …" he checked his screen. "Kristi Hoffman this morning. Meet her here at 9:45 and she can show you what needs doing."

"Back here at 9:45 then. Cool."

The work was easy. Kristi was a quiet, somewhat overweight girl who spent most of the time doing homework. Once she showed me where the boxes of handouts were and helped me set up on one of the University provided tables, she did not speak unless someone stopped to ask a question. I simply did not know enough to answer. But I could make runs to the Union to procure hot beverages to help her fight off the cold.

The Quad was crowded with pedestrians, planters, tables, and trees. Fourteen student organizations occupied the tables, most with posters, flyers, and pamphlets to attract the attention of the passers-by. Our table actually represented the whole Brockton Bay Community Alliance, of which New Dawn was the registered student group.

For four hours I watched people go about their lives. I listen to the other student organizations try to draw attention to themselves and their causes. Most of them were university oriented social and sports groups. I was somewhat shocked to see Student Identity Action, a group that claimed to be about helping students in need find a way to bring out the best in themselves. At first I thought it was a religious group, possibly a cult. Then I twigged to the covert symbolism on their banner and some of the buzzwords being used in their discussion with students. These were white nationalist looking to recruit students.

"Kristi?" I interrupted her reading quietly.

"Yeah?" Her look was just the friendly side of neutral.

I motioned subtly to the Identify Action table. "Are those guys what I think they are?"

She looked over at them and sneered. "Fucking Empire Eight-Eight.

"That's the local Nazi gang. Right?"

"Yeah, basically." She turned to me and lowered her voice. "These fucks are officially not gang members. They're BBSU students offering "outreach and support" to other white kids that can't hack college or who let themselves be fooled by the SIA slick presentations and free food."

"Come to the Nazi side. We've got cookies!" I snarked.

She giggled. "Yeah, just like that."

"And because this is a Free Speech Zone they get to spout their vicious bile here and no one can say anything."

"Oh we can, and sometimes do, protest them or counter their protests. But they're backed by fucking Nazi capes so we gotta be careful or we could end up in the hospital or worse."

I stared at the people manning the SIA table. Three big guys who seemed to be standing guard around one slim girl. I almost started when I realized the girl was a parahuman. I sensed her power easily when I actually looked. It seemed to be related to my base power. She could temporarily give powers to other people, selecting from a limited set. I could feel them. Fire. Regeneration. Strength. Speed. Invulnerability. One power at a time. One person at a time.

I _knew_ that I could alter her power, even remove it completely. I just could not copy it. She had one of her bodyguards powered up with super strength. I assumed that was just in case they were attacked. Interestingly, I _knew _I could extinguish his temporary charge more easily than her permanent power.

Keeping an occasional eye on them I started looking for other hidden capes. BBSU had 12,000 students with probably a thousand or more faculty and staff. I figured there were likely more than 2 capes in that number, not including myself.

Sure enough, when the Quad was its most crowded just after lunch I saw two more powered people. The first was a sharp-featured twenty-something Hispanic, or maybe Native American, woman with long black hair. Her power was cleaving molecular bonds in non-living materials. The second was a late-twenties woman, tall and thin, with auburn hair and light olive skin. Her powers were flight and eggshell-like force fields. I thought force fields would be really useful for protecting people or stopping them non-violently. I could not copy her powers directly. But I might be able to create something new.

Finally our relief arrived and Kristi and I went our separate ways. I assured her I could bring out the boxes myself the next day. She seemed relieved and offered to bring the coffee.

That night I worked on creating a new power at will rather than at need. I got my force fields. I could bubble up one person or thing at a time. And the bubble could not move. Bu tit was a start. That night I tried to specify where the energy reserves would go, concentrating them on my new force field power, my mineral creation power, and my shadow clones. All powers with easy to quantify effects. How many bubbles or clones could I create at a time? How much gold could I create at one time?

I waited until midnight, when my power automatically distributed my reserves. Sure enough, my thinker ability told me those three powers improved by around 6400%. The growth was exponential. And almost immediately my reserve refilled.

Experimentation provided proof. I had been resting on the beach in what Lev told me was the Boat Graveyard. To test my powers I flew invisibly to the interior of the largest of the floating hulks. No one was in sight. I even checked for electronic signatures, using my new cyberpathy.

I had been able to create a 1kg gold bar. Now I could create 64 kg. I was shocked without many clones I could make. I started with 15. Now I could call 960. The force filed growth seemed to be split between size or number of bubbles and bubble density. The later bubbles were almost impossible to pop with my bladed hands or my aerokinesis. Comparative tests on the rusty steel of the hull showed me both the blade and the air constructs were much more deadly than I anticipated.

After testing, I decided to try to distribute the reserve in the same way to see if I could force the distribution to occur when I wanted, and to see if the reserve would refill immediately upon emptying.

I was able to channel the energy into the same three powers, again seeing exponential gains, each of the three powers increasing another 64 times. The reserve stayed empty.

I had over 4 tons of gold and 60,000 shadows almost filling the hold of the tanker. More than 100 of them had force field surrounding them. My powers were now more than 4000 times as powerful as they had been three hours before.

I was staggered by the implications.

Even with only being able to distribute a limited about of energy per day, this sort of growth was world shattering, possibly literally. I had to get a better idea on how powerful the local capes were and how powerful I was currently.

"What the hell" came a voice from the deck above.


	6. Chapter 6

1.X Interlude 1

Dauntless was not happy to have been pulled in off-shift. He had spent the day patrolling and showing the flag at an event at Centerline Mall. Dealing with the public was never his favorite part of the job, but mall Meet-n-Greets might be the worst. He loved his own son, but was not too fond of other people's knee-biters. He didn't think he let Addison run crazy in public like so many kids did. What were their parents thinking?

But someone had reported a disturbance on the _Emma Mærsk_, the old container ship in the Graveyard. It was too far offshore for most of the team to get to easily. As the only flyer, Dauntless got the call. So at 2:47 a.m. the hero was approaching the ruined vessel.

Shawn was struck by just how big the derelict was. Larger than an aircraft carrier and capable of carrying more than a ten thousand containers, it blocked the entrance to the old port, keeping the other ships penned, even if they could sail under their own power. Sabotaging the ship was one of the first acts of the unrest that created the Graveyard. Its distance from shore and relative isolation from other ships kept it free of most scavengers. Given that, if someone was messing about onboard, they were there for a reason, and it was likely a criminal one.

He readied his arclance and shield and flew over the deck towards the open hatch. It was too dark to see inside. He grabbed the flashlight from his belt and held it in his shield hand. When the circle of illumination fell on the open hatch he was confronted with a roiling mass of inky black figures. Dozens turned to face him, light emanating from their glowing white eyes.

"What the hell!" he shouted. The figures, he had no way of counting them, moved and in the fading light at the bottom of the hold he caught a glimpse of a man. Before he could make out any details, the figure was obscured by the dark beings.

They surged towards the hatch. Dauntless stabbed with his lightning weapon. It thrust through several of the inky forms, popping them like soap bubbles. Others surged silently towards him. He attacked again and again, going into a frenzy to stop them from escaping through the hatch and surrounding him. But no matter how many he destroyed, there were always more of them rushing towards him.

Then, without a sound, they were gone. The hero reversed his grip on the flashlight, keeping it pointed forward while placing his shield at the ready. He entered the hold cautiously, sweeping the light in all directions. The inky forms were gone, as was the man. The cavernous interior appeared to be empty except for the rusted remnants of a few containers and the defunct machinery to move them. Nothing living. Nothing dangerous.

The light glinted off of something on the deck of the hold, near where he had seen the man. He approached with care. On the deck the illumination revealed a cube about the size of a small desktop computer made out of what appeared to be gold.

"Crap …" he muttered. For a second he considered taking it, running away with his son and hiding. We had no real idea how much that was worth, if it was what it looked like. But it had to be millions of dollars.

But that moment passed. He knew he would ever get away with it. Instead he called the Director. She needed to know ASAP, and he thought waking her up was a little slice of justice.

Meeting in the Director's office the next morning at 6 a.m. he was beginning to wonder if taking the money and running might not have been the better option. He had not been back to bed.

Instead his call had started a chain that led to Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and a dozen PRT forensic specialist storming the ship. The gold was escorted to the Rig while the forensic team tore the hold apart. Dauntless had been part of the escort, along with Armsmaster.

The two had not said a word to each other during the boat ride to the PHQ. Once they reached the Rig, Dauntless found himself flying back to the ship to continue the investigation while the armored tinker took the ingot to his lab for analysis.

"First things first," Director Piggot began without preamble once the three Protectorate heroes were in her office, along with Samuelson, the leader of the Forensic unit. "Is that bar gold?"

"Yes," Armsmaster answered. "64.15 kilograms or 2,056 troy ounces of 99.95% pure gold with no smelters mark or other identifier of any kind. At the current market rate of $1,403 per troy ounce the values is approximately $2,884,568."

"Not enough to endanger the economy, but enough to buy a lot of something," Piggot mused.

"The question is if that is the only ingot out there," Samuelson asked. He was a forty-something scientist who kept in good enough shape to be comfortable in the field. He did not socialize with the capes.

"Describe the person you saw," Piggot ordered Dauntless.

"Male, approximately 5'9"-5'11". Weight 175-190. Wearing blue jeans and a maroon hoody with a black leather jacket over it. The hood was up so I did not see his face or hair. I only saw him for a second or two. He was standing in the hold near where the ingot was found."

"And the projections?" she prodded.

"They were dark, almost like Shadow Stalkers breaker state, though more tightly formed, less smoky. They looked solid, but ruptured and disappeared with no noticeable residue when I stabbed them with my arclance."

"Did they attack you first?" Miss Militia asked.

Dauntless hesitated for a moment. "I thought they were attacking when they moved towards me. I made first contact. I may have overreacted. But there were so many of them. If they had gotten out of the hold I would have been easily overrun."

"You were in the air?" the Protectorate second in command inquired. "Could they fly?"

"They seemed to be able to move within the hold, but well above the deck. It appeared they were flying, though it is possible they were somehow still attached to the deck either from below or above. There were enough of them that I could not see the entirety of the mass of projections."

"Can you make an estimate of their numbers?" Piggot asked.

"Dozens at least, possibly hundreds. I couldn't be sure."

Armsmaster pointed to the wall screen above the table. An image of a fat, shirtless man wearing some sort of carrion headpiece came up. The video started. The man was at a truck stop. It was night but the area was well lit. You could see him send out tendrils of darkness that formed in to shadow like copies of him. With a gesture he sent the six forms into the store. The camera view shifted to the interior where the inky shapes surrounded the cashier. Then the image froze. "Did the figures you saw look anything like this?"

Dauntless nodded. "Something like that, though they were shaped different. These seem to take the shape of the master that created them. The ones I saw may have been the same shape as the man in the hold, but he didn't look like this guy. Who is this?"

"Seir, an affiliate of the Fallen." Armsmaster replied. "He can create and control a small number of shadow clones and use them for limited teleportation."

"Could." Piggot interrupted. "Past tense. He was confirmed killed in the Canberra attack last week."

"Is it possible he somehow survived?" Dauntless asked. "Maybe he second triggered and is now able to create many more clones. The guy I saw might have teleported out of the ship. I didn't see him get away."

Piggot typed on her computer and another image of the same person, this time lying in a body bag, with half his head crushed. "Unless he created a decoy corpse, he's dead. Perhaps this guy you saw is a relative, possibly a second generation trigger with similar, but increased, powers?"

"That would mean he is likely related to, or involved with, the Fallen as well," Armsmaster suggested.

"And he was either carrying the gold to pay someone, or he was being paid for something." Piggot agreed. "Either way we have to assume we have a significant Fallen plot involving Brockton Bay, and an unknown Master 6+ somehow included in it."

"There's more," Miss Militia added. "Inside the hold there was evidence of more power usage."

"What sort of powers?" Piggot asked.

"We found evidence of both sharp cuts and powerful blows in the steel of the interior hull," Samuelson replied. "Initial analysis suggests that the blows were made with a human sized fist. There were several of these blows and they either dented or ruptured the 240mm steel plating. The cuts seemed to be made with some sort of power. They are similar to what we find in locations where Stormtiger has been involved, though the pattern of force is different enough that I do not think it is his work."

"Do we know what sort of power was used?" Armsmaster asked.

The forensics expert shrugged. "The cuts are clean. Several fail to pierce the steel, but a few do. There is no material residue. There is no evidence of melting or radiation. And there is no evidence of explosive force, like is commonly seen with Stormtiger. Despite this differences, my first theory is that some sort of aerokinesis or telekinesis was used."

"So we have a Brute and a Blaster involved as well. Were they with the Master or fighting against him?" Piggot mused. Then she shook her head and slapped the table. "Too many question. Come on people! Get out there and find me some answers."


	7. Chapter 7

2.1

"Why are you helping me?" I asked Zada as we strolled down a small side street on the edge of downtown. I looked around to make sure no one was within listening distance. "I mean I'm a potentially mind-controlled cape. When I told you my story, why didn't you run or report me or something?"

"Well, you did give me gold and jewels. That sort of thing can turn a girl's head, you know." Zada smiled and bumped my hip with her own.

"Bullshit. I told you my secret days before I showed you my loot. That couldn't have been the reason." I stopped in an alcove and turned her to look at me. "I didn't realize it then, but I've been reading a lot about that monster and what she does to people. It's godawful and a lot of people have died because of her machinations. Getting away from me would have been the sane thing. But you didn't. Why?"

She looked at me seriously. "Everyone has their secrets. You told me some of yours, but you still have others. I will tell you one of mine. You know that in Israel every young person serves in the military, yes?"

I nodded my head. I thought I had heard something about that back home. I had no idea how it was here.

"I served in military intelligence. I was a spy. And one of the skills a spy must have is the ability to read other people, including telling when they are lying. I knew you were not lying when you told us your story."

"But that has nothing to do with the Simurgh. I was telling the truth but that doesn't mean I might not be booby trapped without my awareness."

"You sound like you are trying to drive me away."

"No. I just want to understand your decision."

"Ok. Many capes serve in Endbringer fights, including most of the Protectorate heroes. They have rules to try to keep their heroes safe. A time limit they have determined is safe for exposure to Ziz. You were under that limit. If their limit is wrong, there are a dozen capes in town who could turn at any moment. I'm willing to play those odds."

"And if she brought me here? That might mean she gave me special orders, before the time limit even began."

"I'd considered that as well."

"And?"

"If you turn bad, I'll kill you."

"But I'm a cape."

"And you wouldn't be my first. Remember, spy girl."

"Licenses to kill?" I joked so I didn't have to decide if this woman who I was at least crushing on had just made a serious personal death threat.

"He's a pussy. Wouldn't survive day in my old unit."

"Wow …"

She pulled my arm, "Let's go. Mr. Lateef is waiting."

Brockton Bay Wholesale Jewelry was a small business with high security. Mr. Lateef was a friendly looking middle-aged Middle Eastern or South Asian man. Once we were through the airlock doorway, he took Zada in his arms and lifted her off the ground.

"Little Diamond," he said, setting her down and bussing her cheek. "My Amaya has been missing you. You should give her a call."

"I will. She's at Brown now?"

"You know she is. You helped her get in."

"I helped; she did the work." Zada smiled. "Now, Mr. Lateef, I want to introduce you to an associate who may be able to help _you_ in your business. This is Mr. Cross."

The older man examined me like I was a gem on offer. Finally, he offered me his hand. I shook it carefully. My time on the ship had showed me that my strength was potentially deadly.

"Right. Come into my office and we will discuss business."

His office was larger than I expected, with a desk and chairs, a seating area with two couches facing over a coffee table, and a small workshop with several cabinets with many small drawers and tools. He led us to the couches.

As we sat a young man came in bearing a tray with tea and cookies. He served each of us silently then left the room. Mr. Lateef pressed a button and I could hear the doors lock. He pulled a small locked box out from under his chair and set it on the table. When he opened it, I could see the three diamonds and three small ingots of gold I had given Zada. "So, Mr. Cross, our friend tells me that you can supply more product like these. Is that the case?"

"I can. At least that much each week, if there's a market."

He looked at me. I thought he was wondering where I had stolen the stuff and how much I had. "It is an odd thing that these gems lack the normal laser identification, though they are, as yet, uncut and that is often when the mark is added. The gold is likewise unmarked. Given that, I must reduce any offer I might make on the product as there will be bother and overhead for me to make these available for retail."

"I understand. Given that, what sort of offer might you be willing to make?" I said, pretending that I knew anything about bargaining. I had never bought anything that did not have a preset price tag on it.

"For the gold I an offer $16,000 per bar. Three bars come to $48,000. For the diamonds … I am afraid that rough stones, even this size and clarity, are not nearly as valuable as the finished product. I can only offer you $5,000 for each," He took a sip of his tea. "Because you are a friend of Zada, how about I cut you a check for $65,000 and we call it even?"

I was flabbergasted. I had not really looked at the market prices. But the numbers he was talking about were much higher than I had anticipated. I held out my hand. "You have a deal."

Both he and Zada looked at me in astonishment. I assumed I was supposed to haggle. But the money was for something that took me less than an hour to produce. It was basically all profit. Finally, Lateef shook himself and rushed for his check book.

"I think a cashier's check might make it easier to manage the money, if cash is not an option," Zada said. Lateef frowned but nodded.

Twenty minutes later we were back out on the street.

"You really don't know how to haggle do you?"

"Nope."

She just shook her head and smiled. "What now?"

"I need to open a bank account," I replied. "It's real hard to get along in my world at least without one. Probably need a credit card, or at least a debit card, too."

"It may be easier to use cash here than what I am hearing you say. But I think we can get you the needed papers. Way Out, one of the Alliance partner organizations, specializes in helping gang members build lives outside of the gangs. Often that means giving them a new identity. They can help you for a donation."

"Well I can certainly make a donation. I was thinking I might give $50K of this to the Alliance and stretch the other $15K until we make another sale."

"Why would you do that?" She asked. I think I shocked her more than when I told her I was from a different world.

"You're doing what I wanted to do in my home … er … town. There's no reason I can't support your efforts. I can make a difference here."

"Alright then. If it matters to you, I think you are going to make some people really happy."

As we walked, I had an idea. "What if I didn't just give it to the Alliance as myself? What if I started a non-profit foundation that I could use to channel money through grants to the Alliance and other community organizations? I could even use the foundation to run a rare minerals clearinghouse as a funding mechanism. If we had high demand materials, rarer than gold or diamonds, maybe we could get buyers to bid against each other, doing away with the need for haggling. As long as we gave away the money made it could still be a non-profit, right?"

"You really don't like the idea of haggling, do you?"

"Come on," I whined. "Could that work? I could get a paycheck from the foundation to explain my income. The foundation would have an obvious funding stream."

"… and how do we explain the origin of the rare materials that foundation was selling?" she asked.

"A cape?" I suggested. "Is there anything wrong with a cape making things to sell?"

"There are some restrictions, but a cape sponsored by a foundation could work." She pulled out her phone and started texting. "Let me check this out. In the meanwhile, you're buying me dinner."

"No money, remember. Unless the restaurant takes cashier's checks."

"Here," she pulled wad of bills out of her bag. "An advance. Now take me to the Blue Elephant. I want me some curry! Maybe pad thai, and satay. Yum yum, gonna get me some."

"Ok. Lead the way."

That was the humble origin of the Renaissance Foundation.

Later that night, I flew to the park on a hill overlooking the city. You could easily see the Boat Graveyard in the water below. I sat down under a tree and let my senses sink into the earth. I could feel the large gold ingot that I had sunk into the ground after teleporting here from the ship last night. Given how much I got from the three 1kg gold bars, I had to imagine four tons of gold was worth enough money to cause a lot of problems or solve a lot of problems. I caused the small boulder to sink further down.

I was still a little freaked out that the supposed hero had started shooting lighting at my shadow clones, without them doing anything wrong. I suppose we were trespassing, but other than that, nothing. I guess they were a little scary, especially in the dark of night. But I still expected supposed heroes to try talking before shooting. I wondered if the fact that my clones were black had anything to do with the supercop's shooting reflex. Or was that stereotyping.

I was glad I was able to get away. Having poured all my energy reserve into boosting those three powers, I could not use them to affect Dauntless' powers. I had no idea if I could have fought him successfully. And I really didn't want to find out. I'd always thought the archetypal mistaken identity cape-fights so common in comics were stupid. Open and honest communication was a better way to work out such confusion. I say this after having simply run away rather than trying to talk.

As midnight came, I felt my energy reserve refill. I reached for the smallest bit of energy I could manage. It seemed to be around a tenth of the total. I tried to break that in half. It didn't work. I knew that if left on its own the reserve would automatically split into much smaller quanta to boost all the powers evenly. But one tenth part seemed to be my conscious limit. One charge. Ten charges per day. Three charges boosted a power 64 times. Each charge is two doublings.

I put the charge back into the reserve and mentally locked out boosting the material creation, force field, and shadow clone powers. I also locked out boosting the blade creation, paint creation, invisibility, time manipulation, and propulsion tinkering. I thought they were either powerful enough or did not want to risk them getting out of control. That still left a lot of powers to boost.

I also thought about what sort of new powers I might want. X-ray vision? Laser Blasts? TK? Superman level invulnerability to all physical and energy attacks? Not having to breathe? Last night had shown me how dangerous the city could get. And there were always the kaiju. I needed to get tougher.

To calm myself I took one charge and boosted my damage reduction power. I also created a power to allow me to survive in space or underwater. Immunity to pressure and temperature extremes, as well as self-contained breathing. That would also protect me from gasses and asphyxiation. I put the now power on the boost list.

As I was sitting there, I suddenly realized I might be able to create a power to take me home. Some sort of dimensional portal or trans-dimensional teleportation. It would have to come with an ability to detect dimensional signatures or something that would allow me to find the exact world I came from.

I knew I had seen that one cape open a dimensional portal that Geek Guy had gone through during the attack. I had not harvested that person's power, so I assume they did not die while I was around. I _knew_ it was trans-dimensional rather than just a portal to somewhere else on this world. Maybe I could base my power off that one. The problem seemed to be I still did not know how it worked.

After an hour's effort and spending three charges, I got a dimensional signal sense, which was useless except to tell me that my signal was different that everything else in this dimension. I also was able to open a small portal to a pocket dimension of some sort. It was tied to my signal but was not my world. After some analysis and experimentation, I discovered it was my own personal hammer-space. I could store and recall items. I was tempted to try storing the four-ton ingot but did not want to risk it spilling out at an inopportune time.

I determined to keep trying to find a way home.


	8. Chapter 8

2.2

The rattle of sustained gunfire shattered the relative quiet of the night. The staccato sound was coming from an area of abandoned factory buildings on the edge of Downtown. It sounded like fireworks on the Fourth of July, crackles and pops in the distance. But it was so much more sinister when I realized this was some number of people trying to kill each other not more than five miles away. There could already be blood and bodies on the street.

I knew it was symptomatic of a larger societal issue. I knew that the people firing those weapons were the victims of social and economic injustices. But they were also killing people right now.

I'd always talked about these things in the abstract, arguing how community solutions could criminality by offering positive alternatives. Now I had the reality of immediate violence and the power to do something about it. Was I one of those liberals that cared only about people and evil in the abstract?

I took off. Time to get involved.

The battle continued. Lacking any sort of mask or costume I hide under invisibility and called up a single shadow clone to stand in for me. I wasn't sure I wanted to create a cape persona, but saw no reason to give away my identity.

When I arrived I found a group of eleven young men in green and red laying siege to a three story brick building with a large rolling door, which had been blasted half off its tracks. Inside the building more men were trying to keep the attackers pinned down. I was happy to see no houses or apartments nearby, though I had no idea how far their stray bullets could fly. I could see police lights in the distance, but they were setting up a cordon to keep civilians away. They weren't doing anything to stop the ongoing battle.

As I watched one of the attackers fired a rocket from his assault rifle. It roared towards the roller door. The explosion ripped the door away. I could hear the cries of pain from inside. I decided I needed to do something.

My shadows weren't going to stop bullets and my light spears were too indiscriminate. Instead I vanished my clone and created bubbles around all the attackers and in front of all the buildings doors and windows, at least those I could see. I sent a dozen clones around the back of the building. I could see through their eyes if I concentrated and they were effectively invisible in the darkness so I doubted anyone could see them.

The guys in red and green tried to shoot their way out. But these bubbles were meant to hold people as well as protect them. They were sticky. The bullets embedded on the inside, saving them from their own ricochets. I could hear the defenders trying ineffectively to shoot through the bubbles blocking the windows. I approached the roof and dropped two charges to add two powers, X-ray vision and intangibility.

Ghosting through the building I bubbled the people inside. They were wearing the insignias of the E88. There were stacks of cash and counting machines in several locked rooms, as well as bunk for eight. Once I had the Nazis contained, I created several clones to carry them out of the building and several more to gather the gang members outside together. It was odd to realize that the attacking gang was comprised of entirely of Asian men.

Both groups appeared disconcerted by the silent shadows.

Variations on "Who's doing this?" combined with an impressive variety of profanity, filled the air. Most of the people encased had exhausted their ammunition and were now trying to break their bubbles with knives or clubs. These attacks were no more effective.

I needed to get the police here to take these guys into custody. If I used my phone they would be able to trace me easily. So I tried one of the phones in the building.

"911 operator. What's your emergency?"

"I'm in the E88 building the Asian gang was attacking. All the attackers and defenders are captured and waiting for pick up in the street. They still have their weapons though, so you will need to disarm them as I release them."

"Are you a cape?" the operator asked.

"I suppose I am. But I'm new and don't have a name yet. Please let the officers know that I will be the young white guy in a dark red hoodie and a …," I looked around and saw a blue shop rag. It was probably from one of the maintenance people. "… blue cloth mask. I don't look much like a hero, but I wasn't planning on this."

"I'll inform BBPD and the PRT. Are there any other capes present?"

"Not at this time. Do either of these gangs have capes in them? Are they likely to show up?"

"The E88 has a number of capes and the Asian Bad Boys have two powerful capes. If any of these parahumans appear, you are advised to retreat and allow the Protectorate to engage."

"I'm certainly not looking for a fight. I just couldn't let these guys endanger the neighborhood with their gunfight."

"Units should be on scene in two minutes. Please stay on the line."

"Two minutes. That shouldn't be a problem." I dismissed the clones and wrapped the blue rag around my face like a bandana. I used a dab of paint to hold it in place. The paint I produced was almost like Spider-man's webbing. It came out liquid but quickly solidified into a tough epoxy. The rag was not coming off until I wanted it to. And the great thing is that it would not stick to my hair.

The police showed up as advertised, but I knew they were staged just a few blocks away. When they arrived, they greeted me with reserve and more than one hand on pistol.

"What the hell happened to them?" asked the senior officer, Sgt. Harris by his name badge. The gang members had reacted to the police presence by setting their firearms by their feet. I was a little surprised they had calmed down under the circumstances. Perhaps they were regretting their decisions and looking at this as a real opportunity for rehabilitation. Or not. Maybe they just figured they'd get a good lawyer and beat the rap.

"I put them in time out," I said, trying for Schwarzenegger cool and probably not even making Napoleon Dynamite. "I can let them out one at a time."

"Ok. My people will get set up over there," he pointed to a spot at the corner of two walls. "And you can bring them over one at a time. When we give you the word, you drop the force field."

"Sure, that works. Who do you want to start with?"

"Why don't we start with our old friend Mr. Becker here?" The officer pointed to a skinhead with a swastika tattooed on his forehead. "I've been looking forward to another chance to talk with him."

As the police set up I walked over and picked up the skinhead's bubble. I was tempted to roll it. But as repulsive as he was, the guy had not caused me any particular trouble. I set him in place. Four officers had weapons pointed at him. At their signal I dropped the bubble. Two cops were ready to take him down and cuff him.

We were half way through the twenty-two bubbles when the PRT SUV showed up. Harris went over to talk with them while I continued to decant the bad guys. The police had two armored school busses to take the prisoners, segregated by gang. We were keeping up a steady stream into each.

When we were down to our last three, all from the Asian gang, when someone dropped what looked like a steel sculpture of a giant canine on the hood of one of the Nazis bus. My first thought was that it was a robot of some sort because the steel plates started spinning like a blender, ripping into the engine. Then I realized it was a parahuman with an overgrown version of my blade hand power.

The police and PRT screamed "Hookwolf!" and scattered to shelter behind their SUVs. The pseudo-wolf-bot was followed by a man riding the winds who sent explosive blades of air to wreck the tires on one side of the bus. The other bus was being charged by a troop of ghostly white warriors with long spears.

I could feel my situational awareness kick in, taking advantage of my enhanced senses. Even with that power I was getting overwhelmed. Police who had been guarding the perimeter opened fire with shotguns and pistols, shooting at the flying man or the ghost warriors. I suddenly started getting flashbacks to Canberra. I was freaking out!

_Stop!_ And time did. Stopped that is. Even I couldn't move, but I could still think. The sudden silence and stillness snapped me out of my immanent panic. These were Empire capes, trying to bust their gang members out of custody. The ghosts were trying to attack the restrained Asians in their bus. This was either a distraction or a massacre in the making, depending the abilities of the ghosts. I could sense they were able to harm living things while passing through non-living matter. I had to protect the prisoners before anything else.

The pause lasted ten seconds before the world crashed back into action. I created a big bubble around the bus with the Asian gangsters on it. This foiled the ghosts.

Then I slammed another force field around the aerokinetic. I felt bad not knowing his name. I really needed to read up on the local capes, if I was going to keep getting into these sorts of situations.

"Big mistake, kid," said Hookwolf, his voice sounding like you'd expect from a voice box made of blades. "No reason for you to stick your dick in. We mighta let you walk, seeing as you're the right color an' all. But you messed with my crew. Now I gotta bleed ya."

"You think this is gonna stop me?" the aerokinetic yelled. He clawed at the bubble, like a '70's martial arts movie character. I could feel the air compressed around his hands. It didn't matter. The bubble could withstand the pressure.

"I do," I said. "And just to be sure …" I created a second bubble around the first.

"Rawrrr!" Hookwolf slammed into me, destroying my clothes and tearing at my flesh. It was agony.

With a **_blip_** time jumped back ten seconds.

"Big mistake, kid," said Hookwolf, his voice sounding like you'd expect from a voice box made of blades. "No reason for you to stick your dick in. We mighta let you walk, seeing as you're the right color an' all. But you messed with my crew. Now I gotta bleed ya."

"You think this is gonna stop me?" the aerokinetic yelled. He clawed at the bubble, like a '70's martial arts movie character. I could feel the air compressed around his hands. It didn't matter. The bubble could withstand the pressure.

I turned back to Hookwolf in time to bubble him before he could plough into me. He still rolled the bubble right over me, like a hamster running in a ball.

As soon as he rolled past me, I anchored the bubble to the ground and doubled it. I had made them mobile while moving the gangsters, but it took only a thought to make all the bubbles immobile again.

The ghosts were rushing towards me. I could detect their master looking down from the roof of the building. I doubted bubbling him would stop the ghosts. But the field around the bus had stopped their attacks.

So I bubbled them. _This was a great power for stopping bad guys without hurting anyone,_ I thought.

Then the ghosts disappeared from within the bubbles and started reappearing near the master on the roof.

Looks like I spoke too soon.

I quickly threw a field around the master, but that did nothing to stop the ghosts. The aerokinetic discovered he could control the air outside of his bubble, leaving me with two powered foes now effectively protected by my own force fields. An air blade sliced at me, exploding and knocking me off of my feet.

With a **_blip_** time jumped back ten seconds.

The ghosts were rushing towards me. I could detect their master looking down from the roof of the building. I quickly threw a field around the master, but that did nothing to stop the ghosts. At least he was not going anywhere.

The aerokinetic discovered he could control the air outside of his bubble. An air blade flew at me. I created a bubble around myself, protecting me from the explosion.

I had been limiting myself to only showing my force fields as I had heard that most capes only had one basic power. I was realizing that this was problematic when faced with several bad guys with such different powers. So I called fourth a dozen shadow clones to counter the ghost troops.

The two forces collided with a bizarre sound like feather pillows full of shattered glass hitting each other. Whatever their esoteric forms were made of, they could interact. The ghosts were armed with ten foot long spears and could fly. My clones could also fly and had a semblance of my strength and toughness. The battle was fairly even, until I sent another wave of clones.

Hookwolf had produced a spinning drill bit and was concentrating on one point of the bubble. It was slowly piercing the field. I wasn't sure how long the field would hold him. I had designed it with impact and pressure in mind. So I added another two layers.

The aerokinetic had realized he could not get to me inside my own bubble so he started targeting the police and PRT agents. Two were already down.

I bubbled them and created three clones inside the cape's bubble. I'd hoped they would be able to restrain him, but he tore through them in seconds.

We were at a stalemate. The ghost master was creating new ghosts as my shadow clones destroyed them. I was keeping Hookwolf and the aerokinetic busy. But it still was not safe enough for the police to move much less get the prisoners away.

Then things got horribly worse.

A demon-faced man appeared inside the bubble with Hookwolf and dropped two grenades. They exploded, destroying the bomber and slamming the metal monster against the interior of the reinforced force field.

Another demon-faced man appeared inside the aerokinetic's bubble, a third inside the ghost master's bubble, and two more inside the bus with the Nazis.

They all detonated, pureeing the villains in their shells. I could feel the power of the ghost master and the aerokinetic flow into me on their deaths.

The gang members on the bus had it easier as there was no force fields to amplify the concussion. They just faced several grenades in a small space. So they all still died.

With a **_blip_** time jumped back ten seconds.


	9. Chapter 9

2.3

A demon-faced man appeared inside the bubble with Hookwolf. I collapsed the inner bubble to exclude the metal monster and trap the suicide bomber inside. He exploded, doing no damage to the Nazi Veg-O-Matic. I smiled until more bombers appeared almost simultaneously inside the aerokinetic's bubble, the ghost master's bubble, and two more inside the bus with the Nazis. There were even two in my own bubble with me.

I panicked. Time froze.

There were too many bombers for me to create a smaller bubble around each of them, at least not before they exploded. The shadows would only get shredded. I could tell this was one person creating remote duplicates. I sensed where the active spark or power was, which body was the "real" body, as much as any of them were.

When time restarted I cancelled the bubbles around the E88 capes and threw one around the two demons on the bus. The duplicates exploded, but Hookwolf and the other two capes managed to separate themselves from the demons far enough to survive. The bus was undamaged.

The demons in my bubble dropped two grenades. I shunted them to hammer-space, hoping they would not explode. But my phone was the only thing I was carrying I would miss.

Sensing that the teleporting duplicator had moved on to the roof of the building opposite of the E88 counting house, I threw a bubble around the 'true' body and filled it with shadow clones, hoping they would confuse him and cloud his vision, preventing him from jumping again. As the bodies in my bubble collapsed into ash, I swapped with one of the shadows in the teleporter's bubble.

"Gotcha," I said as I grabbed hold of his costume. He looked past me then stabbed with a knife that hadn't been in his hand a moment ago. I moved, but it still sliced across my chest leaving a line of fire. I flinched and popped the bubble. He turned to powder.

I looked around and saw him engaging the troop of ghosts that were surrounding their master. They were popping the demon's doubles as quickly as they appeared. Before I could join that fight the aerokinetic came over the roof behind me and blasted me off the top.

"Hookwolf, he's yours!"

I think I surprised him when I flew instead of fell.

I knew Hookwolf surprised me when he tossed half a bus engine at me. I caught it and tossed it at the aerokinetic, who frantically called up a wall of wind to push it to the side. I wrenched control of the wind away from him and used it to slam him into the rooftop.

An explosion from behind Hookwolf on the ground below reminded everyone that the demon was still in play.

I looked around for him, finding several versions attacking the police who were arranged in a half-circle against a wall, shooting him as soon as he appeared.

"Everybody freeze! This is the Protectorate!"

Oddly, everyone did freeze, for a moment.

I looked to see three heroes in bright colors, one men in red, and one in gold, while the woman was in grey and blue. They were getting out of a PRT van. "Triumph, you're on Stormtiger. Assault, you have Crusader, be careful. I've got our shadow guy. Avoid Hookwolf until we have backup. Go!" It was obvious the young woman was in charge.

I really need to read up on the local capes.

The demon teleporter appeared in front of the group of heroes. Three of him, all dropping grenades. A speedster dressed in red zoomed by, popping the three forms and knocking the grenades away. _The Flash?_ I thought

The other heroes spread out.

Stormtiger, who could only be the aerokinetic, jumped to the ground and engaged the guy in gold. The ghost master, Crusader I deduced, was directing his troops block off the other hero in red, who oddly seemed to be another speedster. Two Flashes?

I started engaged Hookwolf with seven shadow clones. No reason to leave him to endanger the police or Asian prisoners on their bus. I did not want to bubble him because it would leave him vulnerable to the teleporter, but I would if he got too close to anyone.

The clones used metal debris from the damaged transport to block the whirling blades of the Nazi cape, surrounding him and trying to pen him in. One of the red speedsters chased through one of the demon's duplicates before it could drop a grenade behind the clones.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" the woman in grey demanded from the rooftop next to me. Electricity was coruscating along her costume. A spotlight from a circling helicopter illuminated the two of us.

"I'm just a random good guy who was trying to help the cops stop the gunfight."

"You're a hero? You must be new."

"Yeah," I agreed, though I wasn't comfortable with the label she was using. 'Hero' had a lot of connotations I didn't know I could live up to. "This is my first time out. But we might want to save the social stuff until the fight is over?"

"You should step back and let the professionals handle this," she said. It stung my pride, but I was not invested enough in this sort of violence to want to argue.

"Ok. What about my force fields? They're protecting the police and prisoners."

"They're in the way. Velocity can handle Oni Lee. Just … stand down."

"Whatever." I didn't huff. I released all my bubbles and floated over the fight. The woman flashed with a crackle of electricity and jumped from the roof, landing in a classic three-point stance and launching herself at Hookwolf.

I vanished my clones so they wouldn't be in her way and watched as she landed an electrically charged punch on the metal monstrosity. A painfully loud screech drew my attention to …Triumph? … and Stormtiger trading blows and energy attacks. Assault seemed to be barreling through the ghost troopers to try close on their master.

The heroes and villains seemed to be evenly matched and the police and PRT were rounding up the Empire goons that had escaped the damaged transport, while starting to drive the Asian prisoners away.

Oni Lee, I assumed that was the demon teleporter, managed to get a knife into all four of the bus's tires before Velocity could stop him. This brought the transport to a shuddering halt. As the Flash lookalike was rounding the rear of the bus, a grenade that one of the duplicates had left in the shadows under the bus exploded, catching the runner in his legs.

I saw one foot fly away from the hero's body.

With a **_blip_** I pushed time back ten seconds.

The police and PRT were rounding up the Empire goons that had escaped the damaged transport, while starting to drive the Asian prisoners away.

Oni Lee, I assumed that was the demon teleporter, managed to get a knife into all four of the bus's tires before Velocity could stop him. This brought the transport to a shuddering halt. As the Flash lookalike was rounding the rear of the bus, I threw a bubble around the grenade, just before it exploded, containing the blast. Velocity jerked away from the sound and flash of light, slipping on the unstable ground and fell. But he still had both legs, so I counted that a win.

The demon did not appreciate my interference. He appeared next to me, three of him surrounding me. I teleported to the other side of the roof as his grenades exploded. He came after me. This time I dropped a paint trap as I teleported to the roof of the counting house. The trap solidified around the legs of the villain, but he simply projected his duplicate away and the encased original turned to ash.

He came after me again, this time with knives. They sliced along my skin, shredding my hoodie. I exploded in light spears, catching both Oni Lee and Crusader. The later was carried over the edge of the roof, while the former just burst to ash.

"Got you!" I heard from below. Looking down I saw Assault had caught Crusader. On the roof I'd just vacated I saw Velocity looking for Oni Lee.

I sensed the teleporter appear behind me. I flew up, but he had tucked the grenade into my pocket. It exploded. The fragmentation and concussion were painful, but not debilitating. At almost the same time a series of explosions rocked the area where the police were corralling the Empire gang members.

I tried to push time back ten seconds, but my head was ringing too much. The world flickered then jumped forward ten seconds instead.

There were more bodies on the ground, evidence of Oni Lee's handiwork. Police and PRT, as well as Velocity and Crusader were bleeding and moaning. A few were lying still.

_Shit!_

I heard another ripple of explosions, this time around where Hookwolf and the grey lady were fighting. The feel of his power drew my attention to Oni Lee's active body. I saw that spark of power move around the fight. As he appeared next to me, grenades already in hand, I stopped time.

This guy was too dangerous. He was willing and able to use his explosives indiscriminately. He didn't seem to care who he injured or killed. And his power made him almost impossible to stop. I _knew_ I couldn't steal his power without killing him first. But I thought I might be able to stop it. To extinguish the spark so no one could use it, not me and not him.

I prepared. And when time started again I metaphorically reached out and grabbed his power with mine, and crushed his spark to nothing. I felt one of my charges vanish too.

Oni Lee glanced behind me and his eyes widened. He quickly tossed the grenades over the edge of the roof and dived away as they exploded. I created a bubble around the grenades, containing the explosion.

While I was so occupied, the demon whipped out his pistol and fired point blank into the back of my head. That hurt. I could feel each impact as he continued firing. I felt six shots. Then I was falling into darkness.

I woke up in a hospital bed. The room was brightly lit, with no windows to the outside, thought there was a large mirror on the wall to the left of my bed which looked like one of those two-way mirrors that you see in interrogation rooms in movies. In the mirror I could see myself, the bed, the lack of medical monitoring equipment, and the door in the corner of the wall opposite the mirror. There was no one else in the room. There was no bathroom. I did notice some odd nozzles in the ceiling which my x-ray vision told me led to chemical containers.

_Gas of some sort,_ I forced myself to guess silently. I looked through the mirror and found four people in PRT uniforms in a monitor room. One was already on the phone. Three minutes later a middle-eastern woman in a camo themed costume using an American flag bandana as a mask entered. She talked with a man monitoring one of the computers then looked towards me though the mirror.

I resisted the urge to wave. No reason to give them more information than they already had on my powers. I did a quick inventory of my energy reserve. I was down to two charges. That means I spent one charge since I created my last power, but it was not past midnight when my charges usually auto-distributed. There were no clocks in my room, nor could I see one in the next room.

After a bit of discussion the masked woman left the monitoring center. Her path took her through the hall to my door. She gave a confident knock and let herself in. I looked at her. She was not the same lady hero that had been at the fight.

"Hello?" I offered.

"Hello. I am Miss Militia, of the Protectorate ENE."

"I'm …" I realized I still had my mask on. I was more than a little surprised. "I guess I need to come up with a cape name."

"You're new?" she asked, pulling up the only chair in the room. I sat up and moved back against the head of the bed. It was too awkward to converse with her while still recumbent. I was glad to find I had not been secured to the bed.

"Yes. Today was my first outing."

"I understood there was an encounter two nights ago in the Boat Graveyard."

I thought she was probing. Maybe they weren't certain it was me. But I had no reason to lie. "This was the first time I involved myself in capturing criminals and preserving public safety."

"But you did attack Dauntless in the Boat Graveyard."

"No, I didn't."

She looked at me for a moment silently. Her gaze was penetrating, but I met it without flinching. I had attacked no one.

"How old are you?" she asked.

I frowned. "Why?"

"If you're a minor, the rules are different."

"I'm not a minor."

"Alright. As an adult you can choose to join the Protectorate. If you want to be a hero, it is much safer and more effective to work with an established group. While there is New Wave in town, they require you to make your identity public. Given that you're wearing a mask, I assume you wish to keep your identity secret."

"I'm not sure what I want to do yet."

"Whatever it is, I would recommend against trying to fight the E88 or the ABB on your own. You managed to survive six 9mm slugs to the head and a three story fall onto concrete, but there are a lot of deadlier dangers out there and you've gained the attention of both the Empire and the ABB."

"ABB?" I interrupted. I assumed they were the Asian gang, but wanted to know what it stood for.

"Azn Bad Boys, the pan-Asian gang in town run by probably the single most dangerous villain in the north east, Lung. You managed to depower and defeat Oni Lee, his primary lieutenant. Lung will be looking for you. The Protectorate may well be your only chance to avoid him. Not to mention the Empire, who have more than a dozen dangerous capes on their roster. Hookwolf is one of their worst, but not the only one. As I say, you'll be much safer as part of the Protectorate."

_Wow! Hard sell much?_ I thought. "Am I legally required to join?"

"Well … no." She didn't seem pleased with that. "But it would be better all-around if you did."

"If it's not mandatory, I think it would be best if I took some time to think about this. I'm not even sure I want to be a hero. I might just try to get a normal job or go back to school or something."

"You have the power to make a real difference. It would be a shame to waste it flipping burgers. And you can study while working for the Protectorate. It is a real job with a real paycheck, if that is what you are looking for. Tuition reimbursement and loan forgiveness are also options, depending on what you study."

"That sounds great, but I still need some time to think."

"Alright." She offered a business card. "Please feel free to contact me at any time if you have any questions, or just need someone to talk to. I've been a part of the Protectorate for years."

"So I can go?" I asked, pulling my legs over the edge of the bed. "Do I need to check out or pay the bill or anything?"

"Yes, you are free to go. This is the PRT medical bay so there is no bill to pay. Amazingly you were mostly uninjured. Just a small bump on the back of your head and some scrapes from the fall. Those all healed within minutes. Our docs thought you just needed to sleep the rest of the night. It's just after seven in the morning."

I floated out of the bed and noticed I was in my underwear. I looked at her and raised my eyebrows. I always wished I could raise just one, but did not want to spend a charge on it.

"I would suggest changing into one of our overalls." She pointed to a locker which held a grey one piece uniform with a PRT insignia but no badges or patches. "You may have survived the battle relatively intact. Your clothes, however, did not."

"Thanks." The jumpsuit fit. My shoes were in the locker. I didn't see my phone or pocket stuff, but remembered I had dropped that all in my hammer-space on the flight to the fight. Given how the night had ended, I was happy I'd done so.

"Make sure you have my card," she tucked another into my breast pocket, a surprisingly intimate gesture. "And make sure you use it. I'm looking forward to it." She looked up at me. I was surprised how much her bandana cut down the effectiveness of her expressions. I was tempted to look through it to see what she really looked like, but decided to respect her privacy.

"Thanks," I looked towards the door, wondering if it was locked. "How do I get out of here?"

"I could give you a tour …" she started.

"No. Thank you, but I need to get home. People may be wondering where I've been all night."

"Alright. Just follow me." She took me up two floors in a fancy elevator then out the main lobby. There was even a gift shop open to the public attached to the lobby. PRT personnel, mostly non-uniformed, were making their way into work. Several took notice of Miss Militia and me.

"Do you need a ride home?" she asked as we exited the building. "I can arrange a car or call a cab."

"No, thank you," I replied. I walked away. People on the street were staring. I turned the first corner that came up, and finding a convenient shadow, teleported to my room at the Co-op.

I was only mildly surprised to find Zada lying on my bed, waiting for me.

"Busy night?" she asked.

"You could say that."


	10. Chapter 10

2.X Interludes

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** Topic: Battle in Brockton Bay**  
**In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay**  
**Bagrat **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted On Mar 2nd 2011:  
Last night there was a major battle in downtown Brockton Bay. It started as a shootout when unpowered members of the Azn Bad Boys attacked a building occupied by members of the Empire Eighty-Eight. It grew to include officers from the BBPD and PRT, three E88 capes; Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Crusader; along with Oni Lee from the ABB, four members of the local Protectorate, and an unknown cape.

WBBI got some great footage once their helicopter got there [Video Link]

The battle was, surprisingly contained in a single block. There were several injuries, but no fatalities reported. PRT report that Oni Lee, Crusader, and the unknown cape, along with almost two dozen unpowered gang members were all apprehended. Hookwolf and Stormtiger escaped.

While any victory of that size by the forces of law and order is a good thing. And worthy of our notice and analysis [see official PRT news brief], the most interesting piece of all this is the unknown cape.

He, for it was a young man, was reported to have originally captured all the gang members by himself. He called the BBPD for pickup and was helping them secure the prisoners for transport when the E88 capes arrived to object.

This puts him firmly on the side of good. So Why did the PRT take him into custody? Reports from the field depict the young hero as having multiple powers including - force fields, shadow-like projections, flight, and more, though the details on other possible powers is conflicting.

This battle, and its outcome, poses many questions.  
Is this the start of a larger war between the E88 and the ABB?  
How will the gang leaders - Kaiser and Lung - react to the capture of their capes and troops?  
And my most pressing, who is this new cape and what does he mean for the balance of power in the Bay? 

**(Showing page 1 of 6)**

**►Brocktonite03 **(Veteran Member)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
I was nearby and saw this shit show with my own two eyes (well my drone's two cameras. I ain't crazy). Automatic weapons, grenade launchers. Then Boom! It all stops and the bad guys are wrapped in these round force fields. I looked to see who was responsible. But there was no one there until a couple of minute later this guy in a hoody and bandanna starts carrying the E88 goons our also wrapped in individual force fields.

The goons are not happy. They're trying to shoot their way out. But the fields just stop the bullets. That's when I remembered to turn on the recording.

[Video 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7]

These show everything I got on the Battle.

You can see this new guy holding his own against all four villains until the Protectorate shows up.

As usual, that's when things go to shit.

**►Junk Warrior **(Unverified Cape)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
Looks like a grab bag to me. Nothing that interesting. Might be hot shit against those weak ass punks.

Ain't got nothing on Brocktin Bays true masters of disaster - The Archer's Bridge Merchants.

**►Totally Original Name **(A Random Guy)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
Forget the new guy.

Did you see Battery take on Hookwolf. I tell you she's got bigger balls than most the men on that team.

I know I'd never get near him, not even if I had powers.

**►Divide**  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
So you're saying she's got bigger balls than you?

Dude!

Besides, she didn't manage to take him down. He got away.

So no great feat.

**►Valkyr **(Wiki Warrior)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
Concentrate on the new guy. Until we get a name and can set up a page we need to be figuring out his powers and ratings.

I am seeing -  
Shaker 3 (Force fields)  
Master 4 (Projections)  
Maybe Mover 3 (Flight)?

Other thoughts?

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6**

** Topic: Battle in Brockton Bay**  
**In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay**  
**Bagrat **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted On Mar 2nd 2011:

**(Showing page 6 of 6)**

**►Acree**  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
I like the name Bubblewrap. It's very descriptive of his most common power and it is cute enough for a hero. I mean who doesn't love bubble wrap?

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

**►XxVoid_CowboyxX **(Temp Banned)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
I tell you he's got lots mroe powers than three. ANd they are way too powerful to be just a grab bag.

He's a Trump and probably a really powerful one.

Dare I say it? Perhaps even another Eidolon!

**►Chilldrizzle **(Temp Banned)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
Oh for fuck's sake Void!

Not that again.

You say that every time there is a potential new trump.

Give it a rest.

I swear you are the most [Redacted] ... 

**►SkyChan **(Board Moderator)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
That sort of offensive language and personal attacks will get you a time out. Please play nice when you get back.

**►XxVoid_CowboyxX **(Temp Banned)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
Chillnozzle  
8- [  
Go suck a bag of [Redacted]

**►SkyChan **(Board Moderator)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
That sort of offensive language and personal attacks will get you a time out. Please play nice when you get back.

Didn't I just say this?

**►Lazypika **(Also in the Know)  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
As much as i hate to disagree with my learned colleague Acree, I think we need a more inspirational name. Aspirational even, if only to give the young neophyte something to live up to.

As we already have a Gallant, I suggest Valiant!

But, as it turns out, there is already a hero by that name in England.

So in the ancient tradition, we add a color to the name. In this case the color of his mask.

I give you Blue Valiant! 

**►Lucky_Girl_007**  
Replied On Mar 2nd 2011:  
I hear he is leaning towards Legacy. He has not made a final decision, but I think we should use his choice rather than making one up for him.

It only seems courteous. 

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6**

# # # # #

Emily Piggot cradled her head in her hands as the Protectorate heroes filed into the conference room. She always tried to get to meetings first so she could stage herself in the chair without showing the weakness her infirmities forced on her movements. It was never pleasant, but it was important to show the right image. Capes could sense weakness, so she always had to be seen as strong, always.

The whole team was there.

"Let's get started," she said, rapping her WestPoint ring on the table. "We are here to talk about this new cape, temporary code name Snare. Five of you have had direct contact with Snare," She gestured to the four who had fought in the battle and Miss Militia. "Armsmaster has been examining the available recordings, with the assistance of Dragon. And Dauntless has encountered someone that may or may not be Snare. I want to document your impressions, interactions, and suppositions on this new parahuman. Let start with Battery."

"He claimed to be a hero on his first encounter. When I ordered him to stand down he agreed, then engaged Oni Lee, when I specifically told him to leave the villain to Velocity."

"If by engaging you mean he shielded me from an explosive that I cannot honestly say I would have avoided if he had not acted, then sure he disobeyed." Velocity sounded defensive. "After that it seemed like Oni Lee took the battle to Snare. He had no choice but to defend himself. As they were popping between rooftops on opposite sides of the street, I was not able to keep up."

"Gotta love teleporter fights," Assault joined in. "Blip, blip blip … all over the place. All I know is that he landed Crusader right in my lap and that made my job much easier. One thing we know. Guys got more powers than our whole team of Wards."

"I don't know about that …" Triumph started. He was only recently graduated from the Wards and still had a fair bit of loyalty to them, Emily observed. She considered whether that could be used in a mentor relationship, or if she needed to do something to ensure his loyalty was to this current team.

"Force fields, shadow projections, flight, super strength, invulnerability, regen, sticky chemicals, light rays, teleportation, aerokinesis, combat thinker, … power suppression! ... and who knows what else." Assault ticked off on his fingers. "Either the guy went back for a LOT of extra grabs at the bag or he's a trump."

"It is possible to present all of those powers as a tinker," Armsmaster interjected. His first guess was always tinker, unless it was obviously something else.

"Did you see any evidence of tinker tech?" Emily pressed.

"No." He sounded disappointed. "But analysis did show distinct identifiable similarities between three of his powers and those of other capes."

"Elaborate," she ordered.

"As mentioned before, Snare's shadow duplicates," the tinker showed several video clips of the new cape's projections, "bear a striking resemblance to Seir's power. Taking the difference in the master's physical characteristics the projections appear identical. Though Snare can produce many times more than Seir ever showed."

Armsmaster cued a second set of videos showing Snare seemingly exploding with spears of light blasting in all directions. The clip showed three different sources looping continuously. "We only have this single example of Snare using this power. But it is identical to a shaker power evidenced by Prong, a travelling mercenary." A video of the named cape showed a remarkably similar visual effect.

A third clip showed Snare creating a chemical trap of some sort. This was set on a loop. On a split screen was a close-up of the back of Snare's makeshift mask, showing it was secured with the same sticky chemical. "Again we only have two instances of this power. But it appears to be identical to the power evidenced by a new trigger out of Vancouver named Tempera." A video of a young woman creating multi-colored fluids demonstrated his point.

"So he is a trump?" Triumph asked. "We kinda knew that, right?"

"Something Dragon noticed makes this much more disturbing than just another trump." He paused for dramatic effect. Emily knew sending him those discs on public speaking had been a mistake. Drama Queen.

"He's Eidolon in disguise? Here to secretly test us." Assault offered. His wife clipped him upside the head. "What! That's what their saying on PHO."

Armsmaster gestured to the screen, on which were images of three corpses in black bags. One Emily realized she had seen just a few days before. "All three of the named capes are dead. Killed in the Canberra Attack."

That silenced the room.

Finally the morbid photos were replaced with a grainy video of a young man flying. It was obviously taken from a distance with a telephoto lens.

"This is from the Canberra Quarantine escape reports. We have no name or other identification, but his height/weight estimates are within parameters for Snare. Flight, strength, force fields, etcetera are all common and can be found in the fallen of Canberra. Those three may just be the ones we can identify because they are unique in their presentation. It is possible that all of his powers are copies of powers of dead capes."

"He's not Eidolon," Assault muttered. "He's the fucking Faery Queen!"

# # # # #

"Any idea who this is?" Max Anders asked the PRT agent. Zimmerman was one of the faithful who worked inside the enemy's stronghold. After the disaster of the ABB attack on the Florida Street counting house the man had brought a chip with videos of the battle and most interestingly a photo of the unknown interloper's face. Zimmerman had lifted the boy's bandanna up allowing almost all his face to be photographed without actually unmasking him.

The boy was probably 18-21, medium build, with fair skin and short brown hair. There was nothing to make him stand out in a crowd, even an Aryan crowd.

"No, sir. He gave no name while in PRT custody. They released him without really questioning him."

"Thank you," Max said standing. Zimmerman followed suit. "You've done a great service for your people. Next time you visit the Parlor, I will ensure Greta knows to treat you like a hero."

"Th-thank you sir!" Max smiled at the retreating agent.

He made sure that his plants in the other gangs were treated well. They were paid, of course, but he would ferret out their darker passions and make sure that they could be fulfilled safely under his control. It was just another way to ensure their loyalty and performance. Something his father had taught him, before he had arranged the old man's death.

With a fond sigh at the memory, Max turned to his operations chief. "James, we need to find him."

James Fliescher had worked under Allfather as Krieg back in the day and now provided Max with the same service, acting as both chief planner and go-between with the Gesellschaft and other European groups. The older man took the tablet and examined the image. "He looks like a kid. Possibly a university student? Maybe even high school. I'll send the image to our school-aged auxiliaries and have them look for him. Rune and Othala can spearhead the search. Give the young ones some responsibility."

"That sounds reasonable."

"Should I include Theo?"

"Don't make me laugh. He'd fuck it up and the picture would end up on PHO or something."

"Very well. What should happen when he is found?"

"We send a recruiting team to talk with him," Max said smiling. "He'll either join us or cease to be an impediment to our destiny."


	11. Chapter 11

3.1

"Legacy?" I asked, looking at the online forum where they were discussion me like the newest reality TV star.

Zada admitted that the name had been her idea. "You said you got most of your powers from the dying capes in Canberra. Absorbing powers like that makes you either a scavenger or their legacy," she argued. "Trust me the latter is by far the better image."

"Fair enough," I conceded. "I was thinking of trying to come up with a name that tied more closely to the foundation we were talking about."

"You were serious about that?"

"You don't think it is a workable idea?"

"No I think it is. Especially if it becomes strongly affiliated with the Community Alliance. I'm just not sure why you are willing to give up that kind of money."

"What else am I going to use it for?' I said. "And the foundation's scope doesn't need to be limited to Brockton Bay. If we can grow it large enough it can become a resource for community groups throughout the nation."

"Do you have a name in mind?"

"I was thinking of the Renaissance Foundation, sort of ties in with the New Dawn image without tying it to a single cause."

"Hmmmm…." She voiced. Her eyes defocused. "I like it. Simple, classic, and meaningful. I can even see a phoenix themed logo."

"Maybe I could call myself Phoenix?"

"Wrong hair and wrong gender. Also Marvel comics are still very protective of their trademarks. Not still publishing, but they are stubborn about their names."

"Hmm? I didn't know you had comics in this world," I said.

"The industry concentrates pretty much on Protectorate and Ward licenses these days, but they are still around. They were going strong before Scion's appearance."

We sat silently for a few minutes. It was odd being alone in my bedroom with a beautiful woman for whom I was developing feelings. I was too dependent on her contacts and good will to risk offending her by making a move. I also had Lev's warning reverberating in the back of my head. I wasn't interested in a fling. I'm not certain I was interested in more yet, but certainly not a fling. Not with her.

"So how does one build a strong foundation?" I asked. "And don't say concrete."

"I know a guy, one of the lawyers in the Alliance. Why don't I see if we can get an appointment today or tomorrow? Are you going to be up for a meeting today? You had a rough night."

"Give me a few hours and I'll be fine."

She was not able to arrange the meet for that day, but on Friday we met with Guy Graves, the Alliance lawyer; along with Peta Meda, with Habitat for Humanity; and Danny Hebert, a union leader in Workforce Action. Lev and Zada were representing New Dawn.

We met at Graves' downtown office. From the posters and pamphlets, his business seemed to be representing not-profits and associations, so his work with the Alliance made sense.

"Mr. Cross, I understand you have come into some money and want to start a foundation to support the work of the Community Alliance and similar organizations involved in economic and community development. Is that accurate?" Grave's voice was deep and resonant. Almost stereotypical from a large-framed black man. His hair was short and prematurely grey. He was dress in khakis and a light blue oxford shirt. His jacket and hat were on a rack in the corner.

"That's right. But the outlay of grants and funds is only part of it. Much of the foundation's income will be based on running a clearinghouse or exchange for the sale of rare materials created by one of the foundation's employees, a cape."

"Is this tinkertech?" asked Graves.

"No," I replied. "Rare minerals and raw materials." I pulled a bag out of my pocket and produced a 10ct diamond, a 1ct blue garnet, a 100g bar of gold, a 25g bar of platinum, and a 25g bar of rhodium each in a small, carefully labeled zip lock bag. It had taken a trip to the Smithsonian to find examples of the materials. I actually had more, but did not want to show everything. Painite, Jadeite, and Red Diamond were all more valuable that what was on offer. "More industrial materials are also possible. Tritium and Californium are two examples."

"With the decline in international shipping, there are shortages of a lot of materials," Hebert said. "So I can see the market. But having one cape making money doesn't get my people working."

"My thought was there could be a lot of secondary job opportunities. We could buy property in a derelict area of the Docks, build the exchange, and build hotels and restaurants for visiting buyers. Maybe create a little museum to bring in tourists." I offered.

"Gentrification and tourism are great but don't do much for dockworkers," he countered.

"How about job training, small business grants, and a project to clean up the Boat Graveyard? All possible benefits for workers of all sorts." Zada jumped in. "I know restarting the Ferry is a project near to your heart. That could be one of the efforts the foundation could support."

"I have even heard there is the possibility of some mining work near town." I mentioned. I still had that four ton ingot I could break up and scatter underground.

"Building is always good," Meda said. "But what about the people already living in the area you're talking about gentrifying? Property values go up, rents go up, poor people can't pay, and we have more homeless."

"Build or renovate existing places to provide low income housing. Pay the people to do the work to get further discounts. Incentivize job training." I offerd.

"And all the money is coming from your cape? How is this not just charity? Why not eliminate the middleman and just give everyone cash?" Lev asked.

"Work is better than handouts. Education and training are better than charity, when possible." I replied. This was not orthodox thought among all my progressive friends, but I had always thought education was the only true road out of poverty. I saw Hebert and Meda nodding.

"Where is this cape?" asked Graves. "Why is she or he not here?"

"He wants to avoid the spotlight for now," I said self-consciously. "Eventually I could see him being the first of a team of foundation sponsored capes that could help with the foundation's work."

"That'll rile up the PRT and some of the gangs," Meda said. "I can't see Kaiser or Lung being happy for another cape team to stand up in the Bay."

"Yeah, the gangs are going to be a problem for your expansion plans," Hebert agreed, "And they're going to want a cut of all the action. The Docks are ABB territory, with the Merchants starting to nibble at the fringes. They've both hit up the DWA for protection payments. We can run off the Merchants still, but we pay to avoid the Dragon. How're you going to handle that?"

I looked at Zada. She looked back at me. "Legacy can hold his own against most capes." I said, accepting the name publically for the first time.

"Even Lung?" Danny pressed.

"If he can't, we'll have to strike a deal, much like others working in this town." Zada soothed. "We work in the world we live in, not a fantasy world. We all know that."

The others nodded their heads sadly.

"So how do we get started?" I asked. This was not my world but I was going to work to help it as long as I was here.

Ten days later, on March 14, 2011 the final papers were signed forming the Renaissance Foundation, with me as President, Lev Weintraub as Secretary, David Urich, a CPA, as Treasurer, and Graves as Chief Counsel. I was a little surprised Zada did not want a bigger role, though she did take a seat on the Board of Advisors, along with leaders from all the Community Alliance organizations.

The Board started setting the development agenda while Lez and I started looking at setting up the Brockton Bay Rare Materials Exchange (BBRME). Working with Zada and Mr. Lateef, who we retained as a consultant, we flogged several samples of the Exchange's offerings to vendors around the North East. We let them know the first Exchange auction was slated for April 4th.

We had rented space in the Marriot for the first auction and were trying to keep the invite list down to a select group of buyers with the understanding that secrecy was essential and security would be tight.

We had people from Bikers United and Workforce Action working with the hotel people on security. Zada just shook her head with quiet grin when Lev told her that.

"What!" he demanded.

"I love Carlos and his buddies, but they gossip more than a quilting circle. If the Bikers know, so will every gang in town. The same can be said for the union workers. Nice people, great to have at your back. But they talk … too … much." She started humming.

"So we can expect unwanted visitors?" I asked.

"Not so much expect as we should be prepared," Zada replied. "Remember what we talked about? Have you been building the powers you said you would?"

Shortly after the fight with the ABB and E88 Zada, Lev, and I had talked about how I could build my powers to support the foundation's efforts and to survive the negative attention we were bound to draw from the various powered factions in the city and beyond. We actually went through a list of all the known capes in town and talked about the best ways to counter them. It was helpful, as it familiarized me with the potential dangers.

To support the foundation's work I decided to grow my mineral creation power into a more generalized matter transmutation power that let me transform one element or group of elements into another. That allowed me to transmute air or dirt into gold or diamond. When combined with a few new tinker specializations, it also allowed me to transform scrap metal into complex electronic and tinkertech devices. These transformations were permanent.

One of the tinker specializations I created was building devices to project force fields, like the ones leading to and surrounding the Rig. Permanent installations could be built into the Exchange building and other foundation properties. I even designed mobile field projectors that could be deployed in vans to provide temporary protection in areas of need.

To counter the parahuman threats Zada convinced me I needed more than just force fields and shadow clones.

"What happens if you get attacked before you can react?" Zada had argued. "You're tough now, but Kaiser or Lung or Purity, even Squealer in a battle wagon, could kill you with a preemptive strike before you could get your bubbles up. You need to be able to withstand or avoid that first strike."

So I prioritized improving my damage resistance and regeneration, as well as my situational awareness.

"Your force fields are their own problem," Lev pointed out. "Sure, you were able to hold a purely physical short range opponents like Hookwolf. But for people with indirect attacks, like Stormtiger and Crusader, your bubble simply protected them while they continued to attack at range. Offhand I would say Kaiser, Rune, and maybe Krieg or Victor could also use your bubbles as protection while they attacked."

"You need a way to take people out, preferably at range." Zada agreed.

"I could make the bubbles selectively impermeable to light, which would blind them, and air, which would suffocate them." I suggested, something I later added to the power.

"Have you got something against simply punching them in the face, or zapping them with laser eyebeams?" Lev joked.

"I don't want to kill anyone if I can help it," I replied.

"There are times killing someone is the right thing to do." Zada's tone was cold. "There is a big difference between murder and killing in either self-defense or the defense of others. When soldiers kill each other in war, it can be both righteous and necessary."

"I agree that self-defense and the defense of others are justifications for deadly violence," I argued. "But war is an example of violence as an element of national power. Our social contract places the use of violence mostly in the hands of the elected government and its agents. The government and their agents don't always get it right. But in our system we have agreed that individuals don't have the right to declare war."

"That's all well and good, and really intellectual and all," Lev sneered. "But if Skidmark or Alabaster and their heavily armed cronies show up objecting violently to what the Community Alliance or the Renaissance Foundation are doing, are you going to be willing to step up to put them down hard if needed?"

"Yes." I looked away. "I guess I need two attacks something non-lethal to take down an individual or a crowd. And something more direct."

I created a neural inhibitor power that looked like red lighting and shut down voluntary nerve functions temporarily. I made sure it would not impact cardiovascular or other necessary activities, and that I could use it through my own force fields. Then I created a force beam that could knock a normal person on his butt or shear through the strongest ship's hull. The latter was an odd combination of my force field and my light spear powers.

Purely for my own needs I added life support that allowed me to survive in any environment and resist any toxin or disease. And I increased my dimension sense to have a global scale.

I wanted to see if I could find Hugh or any of his gang. Or anyone else not from this world. I found a handful of extradimensional (XD) beings, six in Boston with matching signatures, and a few others in different parts of the world. The most surprising thing was that one of the XD beings was Scion. I also detected a few dimensional portals being opened and closed. Two were in Brockton Bay. Feeling those powers at work I revised my own portal power to be able to open to a wider variety of dimensions. I was still hesitant to walk though one myself, as I could not be sure my powers would continue to work it the other dimensions.

I had yet to find Hugh or anyone else who shared my dimensional signature. I had no idea if that meant they had not come over with me and Geek Guy or if they had been killed or lost in the Simurgh attack. I had to assume I was alone.

I had also not been able to tune a portal to my dimensional signature, opening in my home world. For some reason there were elements of the dimensional coordinates, for lack of a better term, that I could not adjust to match my plane of origin.

"Caleb, have you been building the powers you said you would?" Zada brought me back to the present discussion.

"I have been. You've seen the matter transmutation powers. I can show you the others later."

"No need." She put her hand on my arm. "You just need to be prepared. If something goes wrong, if one of the gangs attacks the auction, you are going to need to defend us."

"That means you'll need to be there as Legacy, rather than as Caleb Cross," Lev pointed out.

"Which means you are going to have to run the auction," Zada pointed out to Lev.

"What's the big deal?" her young cousin shrugged. "We've hired an auction company to run the thing. The hotel is managing the site. It should all be taken care of."

"I'll remind you you said that," Zada grinned evilly.


	12. Chapter 12

3.2

Foundation business kept Caleb busy most days, but he still volunteered to help man the New Dawn/Community Alliance table in the Quad. During the third week of March he was at the table with Kristi and Shelby. The former was as quiet as ever, but the latter had a snarky observation about almost everyone that passed the table.

"I think she's part of a sociology experiment to see how long a person can wear the same clothes before other people say something." Shelby pointed to a young woman in dirty jeans and a stained hoody. She looked Hispanic, with her long dark hair hanging down to obscure her face. Like most of the students on campus she carried a backpack slug over one shoulder.

"Hey, no need to be mean," Kirsti said. "She could be in trouble of some sort. She looks like she might be homeless. Maybe we can get her in contact with Elena at Safe Space."

I looked more closely. While the young woman was unkempt, it was not yet the ground in dirt that most homeless displayed. What interested me more was that she was a parahuman. I could sense her minor telekinesis power. I knew there were almost a dozen capes that hung out around the campus, likely affiliated with the University in some way. I had spotted this power from afar, but never close enough try to talk with her.

I knew I had the potential to be the most powerful cape in the city. But I was only one person and the Foundation would benefit from having more parahumans involved. I had talked about this with Zada and Lev and they both agreed we should try recruiting. Zada said she had a few leads, but I kept thinking of the campus capes. I decided to make a move, at least to try to get her name.

"I'll see if she's interested," I said. Grabbing a pamphlet from Safe Space, a local organization that ran shelters for abuse victims and the homeless, and one for Way Out, a group that helped gang members get out of the gangs; I moved towards the girl. I snagged a card for the Renaissance Foundation's jobs office from my pocket.

"Excuse me," I said as our paths were about to cross. She looked at me and stopped.

"What?" Her tone was on the edge of hostile.

"I'm with a new organization here in town. I was hoping either you could help us, or we could help you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she snarled.

I held up the business card. "This is a card for our job office if you're interested in working with us." In my other hand I had the two pamphlets. "And these are places you can get food and a place to sleep and clean up if you're in need of one."

She looked at the pamphlets and huffed. I assumed she knew of the groups. From what I'd heard they didn't get a lot of respect on the streets, but they did good work. Then she looked at the card. "What sort of work?"

"All sorts," I replied. "From runners to office work to construction to management. And internships for students. It's a growing concern and needs all sort of people. If you would like I can buy you a juice or burrito and we can talk about it." I pointed to the parking lot where half a dozen food carts were permanently gathered. There were wooden tables under an awning next to them.

She considered, nervously tonging her lip piercing, looking between me and the food carts. "Yeah, but you're buying me a gyro."

"Sure."

Fifteen minutes of discussion and a Greek sandwich later and she was less nervous and more dismissive. "So, some do-gooding moneybags is trying to 'fix' the city. Sounds like a waste of fucking money to me. There ain't no fixing this shithole. Better to just flush it into the Bay and say good riddance."

"Maybe," I said. "But if they're willing to pay us to try to help, I'm willing to take the money."

"Yeah, I hear you. But you look like the type to actually try and do what they're paying you to do."

"Got anything better going?" I asked, looking at her dirty clothes and raising my eyebrows.

"Fuck you," she snapped, though without much heat. "Yeah I got things to do." She finished her gyro. "But … I'll give this shit some thought. What do I do if I'm interested?"

"Call or go to the address on the card," I wrote my name, phone, and email on the back. "Give them this card. I'll let them know you might contact them and that I'm vouching for you." I took out another card and poised to write on the back "Though you have to give me your name and some way to contact you so I can tell them who I'm talking about."

"Listen. I know I've got a smoking bod, but if this is all some plan to get my digits, you are gonna be disappointed. I ain't looking. But if this is for real tell them Althea Gata might stop by."

"And a contact?" I kept my tone neutral, non-threatening.

"Fuck it. Gatagirl45 , but I don't check that every day and if anyone starts spamming me, I got your fucking number too."

"I promise you this is legit. I hope you either go to the office or contact me. We can use your help."

"Why me?"

"It's not just you. We have a sign-in sheet on the table back there."

"But you ain't chasing everyone that walks by that ain't signing. Why me?"

"You looked like you might need some help. That's what this whole thing is all about."

"Fucking do-gooders," she snorted and left.

I had no idea if she would contact the Foundation, but at least I got her contact info. I mentally pinged the email server. It existed and the email address was valid. So that was something. Her power was pretty weak. If everything I'd heard about this town was true, that meant she was in danger of getting snapped up by one of the gangs or killed for refusing. The Foundation might offer her an option. I hoped, for her sake, she'd make the call.

Over the rest of the week I saw several other capes go by the table. Some, like Triumph walking by in his civvies or the girl at the Student Identity Action table who I tentatively identified as Othala, I had seen before. Some, like Crystal Pelham and her cousin Victoria Dallon, had public IDs.

Others, like the young Hispanic guy with the redundant biology and flight power walking with Triumph or the olive-skinned woman that worked in the library with flight and low-level force fields I recognized from my strategy sessions with my friends. He was almost certainly Aegis and she was Dovetail. Zada did not limit me to planning to fight just the known bad guys. She had me assume that I might end up facing any of the local capes, including the heroes.

Even with those preparations I still could not identify all the capes I found. Both Althea and the older guy who was a geo-sensitive thinker were mysteries to me. That made them the most interesting. They might be candidates for recruitment.

Zada said there were only about 12 known capes in town that were unaffiliated with one of the existing groups. These included Buckskin, Candlemaker, Chariot, Circus, Dovetail, Myriad, Parian, Trainwreck, Tyche, Uber & Leet, and a new guy called Browbeat. Given that neither Althea nor the geologist were on that list I knew there were more parahumans in town than was thought.

I wanted to bring as many as possible under the Renaissance umbrella to protect them and help them do good in town. Even those that were nominally villains might just need support and guidance to move away from crime.

I started to look for these independents. I did not know how to approach them, not until the Foundation was better known. But I wanted to find ways to contact them at a later date.

"She's looking at you again." Shelby pointed towards the SIA table where likely-Othala was indeed staring at me. I glanced at her and she looked away, shuffling papers to try and appear busy.

"Maybe she's crushing on you. You _are_ pretty white bread." His smirk grew as his eyes danced. "You know what they say about Nazi chicks."

"No, I don't," I denied. "And I don't want to know. I've no idea why she's been looking at me, but I don't like it. I'm heading out. I'll catch you later."

I was not officially on shift, having stayed at the table when Shelby came to relieve me, so I could leave without abandoning my post. Over the next two days I noticed Othala, I later found out her civilian name was Anne Herren a part-time advertising student, was paying too much attention to me. I even found her power spark near the Co-op more than once. I hoped she wasn't following me.

After the third time I noticed her, she seemed to disappear. She wasn't at the SIA table and I could not find her spark anywhere near campus. When I heard some of the E88 capes had busted Crusader out of PRT custody while he was being transported, I figured she was either involved in the operation or the aftermath. Whatever the case, I was glad she wasn't stalking me anymore.

"Alright," Lev said. "Let's see it."

"Just give me a minute," I shouted through the doorway. We were in Zada's suite. Somehow, she had managed to claim one of the only two suites in the whole Co-op. I was dressing in her bedroom while she and her cousin were waiting in her living room. "This is … I'm a little nervous. I've not let anyone see this yet."

"We know." His impatience was obvious. Lev had become a good friend in the month I'd been in town. But he could be a jerk sometimes. He was more into this whole superhero thing than I was and sometimes I felt pushed into a role I was not sure I wanted to play. "Come ooon!"

I stepped into the room. The two cousins looked at me, Zada contemplatively and Lev in amazement.

"Wow!" he said. "You really look like a cape now."

I was in my new costume, or rather Legacy's new costume. With the popularity of capes as media icons combined with the possibility that anyone might trigger there were loads of resources on super costume design. I had spent hours, usually in the middle of the night as I no longer slept, looking at these resources. CapeMaker, an online design sandbox, allowed me to create dozens of possible outfits. Once those had been narrowed down to three possibilities, I 'd shown them to Lev and Zada to get their feedback. But this was the first time anyone had seen the finished product.

Given the name Legacy, I wanted to project a 'heroic' image with a mix of modern and classic accents. I used a kevlar/spandex base bodysuit of dark blue with a robin red front panel and neck. On top I created a modernized golden banded brigantine that was reminiscent of the Roman _lorica segmentata_ but only covered the shoulders and torso like a catcher's vest. A golden belt with a storage pod on each hip closed over the pointed tail of the chest piece. The banded gauntlets and boots matched the golden armor. The headpiece was double layers of the red fabric that wrapped around the back of the head holding on an articulated gold facepiece that anchored under the chin and went up the sides of the face to a glowing red visor. The top of the head was left open.

My matter creation and materials tinker powers had allowed me to experiment to get the right fabrics and metals for the effect I wanted. The armor pieces were mix that I had developed to be tough, light, and flexible. I built the costume to withstand impact and damage, not as protection for myself, but to avoid it being destroyed in a fight.

"I like it." Zada said. "It has a certain Jack Kirby look to it."

I grinned. One of the few good things I'd gotten from my Dad was a love of old comic books. I'd had vague images of Kirby's New Gods when designing the outfit, especially the headpiece. "Thanks."

"Geeeekkks!" Lev teases.

"It's something to do," I shrug. I take off the headpiece and pop it into the pocket dimension attached to right the belt pod. Each pod has an expanded space to hold all the first aid, communications, and other gear I thought I might need. The visor on the headpiece connects with small computer built into the pod on the back of the belt which is not dimensionally expanded so it can remain in wireless contact with the world.

"You mean it's your hobby?" Lev asks. "I don't think I ever really see you just relaxing. You're either researching and practicing cape stuff or working on building the Foundation. And those two overlap a lot."

"He's right," Zada added. "What'd you do for fun before you came here?"

I grimaced. I didn't like to think about home. For some reason I hadn't suffered the massive emotional breakdown I had been expecting ever since I realized I was in a different world and I might never find a way back. But thinking about home just made me sad. "It doesn't matter. I'm not there and I have to live in this reality. Here I have the power to help people. I don't have the time to just have fun playing racquetball or ice fishing."

"But …" Lev tried to interrupt, but I cut him off.

"You're the one that told me the ABB were running a human trafficking operation to fill their brothels with sex slaves." My voice rose with each point. "That the Merchants are pushing drugs to elementary school kids. The E88 are radicalizing white teens and converting them to fucking Nazis! I could find them and stop them. The only reason I'm not is I hope to god that this foundation I'm putting my all efforts into will bring about changes that will eliminate the underlying causes of these atrocities, giving the people of this city a choice other than crippling poverty or the fucking gangs!"

"The Protectorate and New Wave go head-to-head against the villains and it does no good. You're looking at longer-term solutions. And that's a good thing," Zada said, putting a hand gently onto my arm.

"But you need to remember two things. While you can make a positive change, you can't save everyone. No one can, not even Scion."

"I'm …"

"And," She rushed on over my forming objection. "if you work yourself non-stop, you'll either burn out and give up. Or you'll become so removed from the people you're helping that you risk losing your humanity. That's what's happened to so many of the powerful capes. They don't see themselves as one of us anymore. Instead they're above us and we're there merely to be protected or toyed with."

I sighed. I could see that happening. In my world it happened to powerful people all the time. They got authority or adoration and began to feel entitled to the trappings of power, regardless of whether they were doing good with it. It could so easily become much worse with superpowers separating the haves and have nots.

"I understand." I raised my hands in surrender. "Once the first auction is done, I'll take some time. Back home I was a political junkie, but I was also a bit of a geek. Maybe I can find time to read, go to a movie, or game a bit."

"That sounds great," Zada said. "I know some gamers I can introduce you to."

I nodded, not mentioning that I also liked to date girls in my old world. So far, the only girls I'd spent any time with were Zada and Kristi. And while the quite young student was nice enough, she and all others paled in comparison to the shining star that was the Israeli dynamo. But I still wasn't ready to make a move there.

"So, tell us about the suit." Lev smiled like a kid at Christmas. He might not like the PRT, but he was a cape-junkie at heart.


	13. Chapter 13

3.3

The weather was not inviting on the day of the auction. It was a dark and stormy afternoon. April showers and all that, I supposed. We were set up in mid-sized meeting hall on the third floor of the Marriot. The rain sheeted over the windows on the west wall.

The room was separated by a collapsible wall into front and back areas. The front area included the auctioneer's table facing thirty seats and a registration table near the front door. We'd kept the number of invitations low as this was our first effort and we did not want to risk it getting out of hand. The bidders came from select jewelry wholesalers, high tech companies, DARPA, and the Toybox. The tinker consortium had sent three representatives, though Zada assured me that at least one, if not two of the men coming were thinly disguised security for the real rep. This seemed to be the norm. Groups of three from each organization, a buyer, a guard, and a person to verify the materials on offer.

As each buyer team came in, we had them register. They agreed to put $5,000,000 in electronic escrow overseen by a respected New York accounting firm to be used to immediately cover winning bids. We hoped to make at least $50 million today. If individual bids went higher than $5M the buyers would be given time to add to their escrow accounts.

We had handed out tablets with pictures and details of each lot to be auctioned – Lot #3 10 400oz gold bars .9999 pure, Lot #7 5 1ct red diamonds, Lot #11 5 1g painite gems, Lot #15 10g Tritium, Lot #20 100g tinkertech graphene mix 35 (see details), etc. At noon the back room opened with each lot laid out on individual tables for examination. The auction was slated to start at 1p.m.

I was there in costume to oversee the security during the examinations. I had a dozen shadow clones stationed around the perimeter of the room along with Alliance member bikers and dockworkers in Renaissance Foundation golf shirts with the phoenix logo prominent on the chest.

During the showing period most of the buyers circulated quietly. You could tell which group represented which industry. Gold and gems were being examined carefully by the jewelers. Rare earths and precious metals attracted the tech buyers. While the DARPA and tinkers seemed most interested in things like the tritium and the tinkertech materials. Most buyers were staid, if skeptical, professionals. That was not the case with the representatives from the Toybox.

"You've got to be shitting me," shouted the young man whose name tag read Gearbox as he examined Lot #20. "Is this real?"

"That's what the tests show, see appendix 7," answered one of our expert guides. Most of them were grad students in various engineering and science programs at BBSU. "But they are being sold in small enough batches that you can afford to test the possibilities yourself."

"Yeah, I got peeps that would love this shit." He thrust out his scrawny chest. "Ain't no way the dorks at CRAPA are getting this baby."

I shook my head as the DoD researchers looked over at the boisterous cape. There had been some serious discussion on whether we should invite the government agency. Lev and some of the advisors were against it. But Danny pointed out that nothing big got done without government cooperation and Carlos, a veteran himself, pointed out that there was nothing inherently bad about the military, just that it was too often used for bad ends. I remembered they were one of the drivers of technology innovation on my world. So, I invited them as a long shot and made sure the tritium I produced was an isotope that could not be used in building nuclear weapons.

I closed my eyes. I had shadows stationed throughout the hotel and hidden on the streets for several blocks around, my very own surveillance network. I could also tap into the traffic and security cameras in the area. I ran a quick check to see what was happening. I had been doing this every thirty seconds or so. The rain made it difficult to identify people. But Armsmaster riding his famous motorcycle was not hard to spot. He was approaching the hotel, followed by two PRT vans. People stopped in the streets to watch them like they were a short, wet parade. I swallowed, my mouth a touch dry.

We had talked about this likelihood when planning the event. Graves had brought in Teresa Hill of Calle & Associates, a law firm specializing in parahuman law, to speak for the Foundation in matters related to Legacy, MIRIS, and our plans to expand to a full corporate team. I had one of my shadows tap Hill on the shoulder to get her attention. She started at the clone then looked for me. I tapped my wrist and nodded to the meeting room entrance. She nodded back and moved to intercept the government heroes.

Through my shadow I was able to witness their discussion. Armsmaster, followed by Miss Militia and four PRT agents in street uniforms; ballistic vests and sidearms over black coveralls with the PRT flying shield emblem. I was relieved that had not come in full stormtrooper mode. As the PRT contingent approached the meeting room the Renaissance Foundation security personnel stood in front of the closed door. Ms. Hill spoke first, preempting the hero's likely demands.

"Good afternoon, Armsmaster. Can I help you?" She did not identify herself, but I thought the armored man recognized her. I guess there were not that many lawyers with her specialty in town.

"Please ask your people to stand aside. We are here on official Protectorate business," I expected there to be a slight robotic tone to his voice, but there was only the clear baritone. "We need to speak with Legacy at PRT HQ."

Her lips quirked just a bit. "It so happens I represent Legacy as part of my remit from the Renaissance Foundation. May I see your warrant?"

Armsmaster looked at her coldly. "As I said this is part of an official investigation. Please stand aside."

"Are you in hot pursuit of my client?" she asked.

"What?"

"Have you just followed my client from the scene of a known crime or is he in the process of escaping from arrest?" Ms. Hill elucidated.

"Of course not," The armored hero snapped. "But we need to speak with him right now."

"Is this a matter of imminent danger?" she continued?

Armsmaster sighed. "No. But as part of an ongoing investigation we require his immediate presence for questioning."

"I understand. As you may know Legacy is providing security for this private event as part of his employment with the Renaissance Foundation. This is a private, invitation-only event. As you are not invited, you will need a warrant to enter the event. In order to force my client's immediate presence, you will need a warrant to that effect."

"Listen …" the armored man started.

"On the other hand," Ms. Hill spoke over him. I admired her courage. I also noticed several of the RF security guys were recording the confrontation, as were a few random passers-by. "my client would be willing to meet with you at a time of mutual convenience. For instance, this event is scheduled to be finished by 3p.m. He should be available after that time."

"This is ridiculous." The hero was raising his voice. "I don't care about some event. We've got more important things to do than stand here and argue with you."

Miss Militia was trying to catch his eyes.

"Then produce the warrants and I'll retrieve my client."

I could tell Armsmaster was tempted to ignore the woman and smash his way into the hall, but Miss Militia had finally gotten his attention and was trying to calm him down.

"It'll take longer to get a warrant, if we can, then it will to wait until 3p.m." she said quietly. Luckily for me my clones shared a portion of my enhanced senses. "You know neither the Director nor PR would be happy to see us on the news busting up charity auction to get to this guy three hours quicker when we've been waiting for a month."

I could almost hear his teeth grind in frustration. "Very well. But I want you to wait here to see he doesn't leave."

Miss Militia nodded as Armsmaster strode quickly away. She gave the agents instructions on placement and set in to wait me out.

"Should I be expecting warrants soon?' Ms. Hill asked.

"He will either return with the necessary paperwork, or I will take your client in for questioning at the end of the event. Please let him know that trying to avoid this questioning could be taken as both an admission of guilt and as obstructing an official investigation."

"Not in this country," Ms. Hill replied with a smile as she walked away.

I pulled my attention back to the room, quickly checking that none of the lots had been removed or tampered with. There were no issues. A quick check outside showed it was still pouring. I noticed no imminent invasion.

I had placed a force field box on the inside of the room, hugging the walls, ceiling, and floor. I had been upgrading my force fields a lot over the last weeks. While the basic bubble was nice, I could now form any shape, vary the visibility of the field, as well as the color and permeability to air and select energies. I could also cover a large building or bubble several city blocks. In this case I did not want the field to be visible. I also made it so the two doors to the room could still open. It added an extra layer of surprise security.

At 1p.m. Lev called for the auction to begin. As mentioned, we had hired a professional auctioneer. We would need a full-time auction staff once the Exchange was established. We hoped to raise the money for that at this auction. I kept an eye, or several, on the area outside the room. The PRT were relaxing at their temporary posts. I could have easily ghosted out or teleported away but had no intention of avoiding them. Legacy was here to stay, and I needed to make peace with the government as much as possible.

The auction was exciting only because it meant a lot of money going to my organization. Every bid meant more money for our people and projects. Otherwise it was a quiet, almost dull affair. Even the auctioneer kept his voice dignified and professional. Gearbox was again the exception. His cry of "Fuck yeah!" when he successfully outbid the DARPA representatives for the graphene mix drew chuckles from the room.

As the hammer pounded on the last lot and the accountant confirmed the last money transfer and people rose to their feet and started talking quietly with each other I noticed two giant women in Viking armor coming around the corner of the hotel. Before Lev could mention where the successful bidders could take possession of their goods, one of the identical women stabbed at the west window with a giant spear. The glass shattered but my invisible field held, absorbing the impact.

Outside Fenja, Menja, and Rune began to strike at the building. My force field held, but other parts of the building were getting damaged.

At the same time Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Cricket burst into the front doors of the hall while Krieg, Alabaster, and Crusader came through the back doors. Super awareness doesn't do any good if I'm too busy counting money in my head.

With a **_blip_** time jumped back ten seconds.

As the hammer pounded on the last lot, I spotted the all the incoming Empire capes though my shadows' eyes. I transferred places with a clone outside the front door and bubbled Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Cricket before they could react; making sure the bubbles were impermeable to both light and sound. Transferring to the back hall, I surrounded Krieg, Alabaster, and Crusader with the same dark bubbles. Outside I trapped the three attackers, separating Rune from her makeshift platform. I wasn't certain the force field could hold the giants but figured this was a good time to find out. With my x-ray vision I was able to see inside the spheres. Everyone was pounding and yelling, but no one seemed in danger of breaking free.

I saw the PRT vans parked on the street. I quickly teleported the six bubbles from inside to the base of the giants' bubbles. I had also been improving my teleport and could now port things to me or port things from one place to another. It took some practice, and some charges, to be able to teleport my force fields or from within a field.

The driver waiting with the PRT vans was just now reacting to the short conflict. I picked up his call to Miss Militia. Expected her to join us momentarily, I called Ms. Hill.

"Legacy? What's going on?" I could see her looking at me out of the meeting hall window.

"Just a little kerfuffle with the Empire Eighty-Eight. I have nine of their capes contained and am ready to work with the PRT to get them into custody."

I sensed Krieg trying to make a call but made the bubbles impermeable to phone and wireless frequencies.

"Nine!" she blurted. My shadows inside the room told me things were getting a little exciting. All the security personnel were trying to get their principals out to the room, while the buyers were trying to get their purchases.

"Please tell Lev to expedite the transfer of goods to the buyers. I think I have this under control, but the PRT is about to get involved and it would be better if the auction was concluded before they do. Speaking of which. Miss Militia is on her way out here. It might be good if you can join us?"

"Right. Be there in a moment."

I cycled my view through various sources, trying to keep up with everything going on. When the Protectorate heroine approached me, I returned my attention to my body.

"What's going on here," she barked. Her power had manifested as an assault rifle with a grenade launcher attachment. She had it ready, but not pointed at me. Mostly she was looking at the seven small and two large black bubbles.

"Some of the E88 capes attacked the hotel. I was able to contain them before they did much damage." I pointed to where the wrecked car Rune was riding, along with her arsenal of debris, had crashed to the street when she lost sight of it.

"And these are?" she pointed to the bubbles.

"My containment fields," I smiled. "If you would like I can make small openings where you can fill them with containment foam. It will make transferring the bad guys to your custody much easier."

"Just … stay there. Don't do anything." She stepped to one of the vans and called Armsmaster.

Their conversation basically boiled down to him ordering her to "Take the win."

It took a few minutes to make the transfer. We filled the bubbles with foam one at a time. The giant twins were the most difficult. But I was able to temporarily suppress their growth powers and they shrank right down. Hookwolf had filled his bubble with whirling steel blades, but we kept pushing in foam and eventually he was gummed up.

By the time we were done both Armsmaster and Ms. Hill had joined us. The rain had lightened to a damp sprinkle.

The Protectorate leader was talking to the local media that had arrive shortly after he had. I was happy to hear that the Protectorate had placed units at the ready, knowing that the auction was likely to draw attention from villainous elements. He even acknowledged that I had assisted in the Protectorate's arrest of the majority of the capes of the E88, crippling their power in the city.

Ms. Hill just shook her head when I raised my eyebrows.

_Yay Protectorate!_ I smiled.

"Legacy, we'd like you to come to the Rig to make a statement." Armsmaster said, still on camera.

"Very well," I replied. I looked in the meeting hall and found that the buyers had all left, their goods in hand. Lev and the others were securing all the RF equipment and were almost out of the room. I thought I was free to go. "Ms. Hill and I will meet you there." I encompassed her in a clear field with a flat opaque bottom, more a platform than a bubble, and lifted into the air with her.

The cameras followed our departure.

"I don't think this was what he had in mind," Ms. Hill said.

"Probably not. But there's no reason for the media to get a shot of Legacy going into the back of a PRT van, like a criminal."

"And nothing says hero like a flying man in tights." Her grin was infectious. Ms. Hill was a short, round African American woman with her long natural hair bound back with some plastic device, the name of which I had no idea. Despite her size, she radiated authority. Not someone to mess with was the obvious message.

"Well, an actual cape might help the image, but I just didn't think I could pull it off," I said.

She nodded. "Not many can. Now are you going to call ahead and let them know we're coming, or should I?"

"Miss Militia already informed them," I said. "I figure we'll just wait outside the shield unto they let us in."

"Now a quick question while we are as private as we're likely to get," She looked me in the eyes, or tried. My visor was opaque from her side. "Have you broken any laws that they can pin on you? This is confidential, but it is better that I know what I am working with."

I thought for a moment. There was only one thing they might have on me that mattered at this point. Telling Hill might lose me my lawyer. But if they sprang it on us during questioning, I could definitely see her walking. "I was in Canberra for the Simurgh attack. I was exposed for less time than the maximum allowed for PRT and capes. And I left the city before it was quarantined. I don't know if they have any way of proving that. It's the only thing I think they could have on me."

As expected, she started to shrink back from me, but realized she was in a bubble I was holding several hundred feet over the Bay. Instead she took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"From what I saw on the web," I continued trying to allay her fears, "both Armsmaster and Miss Militia were also in Canberra and exposed for just as long or longer, though I didn't see either of them there. You've no more need to fear me than you do them."

"You know that's a lot less reassuring than you hoped when being said by any cape about any other cape to any normal human. You're all terrifying. The possibility that any of you could be programmed to go on a random killing spree by a floating death angel just makes it a little worse. I know that she programs normal people too. But admit it. You can do a lot more damage than I can under those circumstances."

"Does that mean you don't want to be my lawyer?"

"Why would it. We've defended people we _know_ are monsters. Defending someone that might possibly become one sometime in an indeterminate future. That's nothing. Just … don't kill me."

"Right," I said. I've not had many dealings with lawyers. _I wonder if this is a common attitude._

Someone on the rig was flashing a light at us. "It looks like they're ready," Ms. Hill pointed. "Shall we go beard the lions in their den?"


	14. Chapter 14

3.4

"You are telling me this single cape managed to totally defeat almost the entirety of the E88's powered forces in under thirty seconds without taking any injury and with virtually no collateral damage." Director Emily Piggot could not decide whether she was astonished or angry. Armsmaster and Hannah reflected her unease. The three were convening in her office before proceeding to the conference room where they were to meet and question Legacy and his twice-damned lawyer.

"I had barely registered the presence of Hookwolf and his partners in the hotel hallway when Legacy appeared," Hannah reported. She was the only Protectorate hero on site when the abortive attack took place. "He reacted with superhuman speed and had placed opaque force fields around the three villains in under two seconds. Cricket, the fastest of the E88 capes, started to react but he was faster than her. Approximately ten seconds later the three force bubbles disappeared."

"What happened outside?"

"Almost immediately following the disappearance of the three force fields, I got word from Agent Charles that Legacy was in the street with several more opaque spheres. I hurried to his location where Legacy, upon questioning, offered to turn the criminals over to the PRT. After checking in with Colin, we effected the change." Hannah's report was as dry and professional as ever, but Piggot could detect an undertone of disturbed concern, possibly even fear.

The Director could understand that reaction. Those nine villains would have given the entire Protectorate roster a run for their money and there was no guarantee that the Nazis would have been defeated. Even if they were, the cost in blood and property damage would have been too high to be borne. This Legacy was a monster. His force fields seemed to be on par with Narwhal in terms of strength and versatility, though the young man had not, yet, shown the sort of offensive uses of which the Canadian hero was capable. But that was only one of his many powers.

"You are certain he somehow suppressed the Twin's growth?" Piggot asked.

"I can't be certain, but each giant shrank down when we were ready to use containment foam on them."

"They shrank individually, not both at the same time." Colin attempted to clarify.

"Correct. So it's not a power suppression field. It was an individual effect. Either he suppressed each of their powers himself or he mastered them to turn it off themselves." Everyone winced at the horrible possibility Legacy was a mind controller as well as everything else.

"Has their power come back?" Piggot knew that almost a month after his encounter with the mysterious cape, Oni Lee was showing no signs of having his powers return.

"Reports from holding say they have been trying to grow out of the containment foam, though the standard soporific gas in their cells is holding them." Colin pulled from the PRT computers. "This confirms that the suppression effect was temporary in this case."

"Super speed, teleportation, improved force fields, power suppression, any other abilities demonstrated this time?" Piggot asked.

"Flight and the ability to teleport his force fields and change their nature. The flying platform he used for Ms. Hill is an example." Hannah catalogued.

"More an evolution of powers already displayed than new powers, per se." Piggot pounded her desk. "We need him as part of this team. We can't let someone with powers like that work outside of our control. Tell me how we get that."

"If he is an escapee from a Quarantine Zone, we can take him into immediate custody," Colin suggested. "Once we have him we can work on his seeing Protectorate membership as a desirable alternative to a return to Canberra."

Piggot noticed Hannah's slight expression of distaste. Despite the fact that the masked woman was one of the few ion the team who was comfortable with necessary killing and had a loyalty to the PRT such that she would carry out orders whether she agreed with them or not, she could be surprisingly reluctant when it came to using legal loopholes and political tactics.

"Can we prove that it was him that escaped?" the Director asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." Colin said flatly.

"Does he know that?" Piggot continued.

"I don't know. Are you suggesting we bluff?"

"I'm suggesting we don't give up any possible line of attack prematurely. Though that may be more difficult with his lawyer present."

"What about the reports that he is producing the rare materials for sale at the auction?" Colin asked.

"If he is, he's a risk to the national economy. We can threaten him with Watchdog," Piggot said. "It's another possible pressure point."

"And our fall back if he won't agree to join?" Hannah asked.

A signal came in on the Director's computer informing them the conference room was ready and asking permission to signal their 'guests'. Piggot clicked her approval and signaled opt her two subordinate it was time to move out.

Piggot contemplated as they started towards the door, "At a minimum I want him registered and if at all possible power tested. We need to know what we are facing if he is compromised or decided to turn his powers to the wrong ends."

The others nodded their understanding.

Once they were in the room they settled into their positons, Colin to Piggot's right and Hannah to her left. Behind them was the Bay with the city beyond. It was an impressive sight and might help to humble their visitors. Piggot signaled they were ready for the outsiders to be led in by a senior PRT agent.

Piggot looked the two over. She knew Hill and had dealt with her often. People, not unfairly, sometimes compared the two women. Physically they were very similar, skin and hair color notwithstanding. But they were very seldom on the same side of any issue and there was little love lost between them.

It was the stranger in their midst that really drew the Director's eyes. Legacy was tall, six foot or a bit more, and surprisingly slim. His costume showed that he was all whipcord muscle rather than skin and bones, but even so a regular human with his build would only weight around 150-160. His golden armor might add to that, but he was nowhere near as physically imposing as Armsmaster, if a similar height. It was hard to tell with his visor, but he looked young - not Wards young, but not a lot older. She forced herself not to speculate on the likelihood of his attendance at one of the local colleges.

"Let's get started," she commanded. "Please have a seat."

"Thank you," Legacy offered, but waited for Ms. Hill to sit before fulling sinking into his own chair. It was adjusted poorly and he sank down so he was looking up at everyone else at the table. He had to reach around beneath him to find the lever to fix the height. Piggot sighed. That was not intentional, but he would likely think it was a petty power play. She would have to have a word with the maintenance supervisor.

"I am Emily Piggot, Director of the PRT East-North-East. You know Armsmaster, leader of the Protectorate ENE and his deputy Miss Militia. We have been looking for you for more than a month. Now that you are here we have several items to talk about."

"I want to clarify one thing," Hill interrupted. "My client is here of his own volition and is not under arrest or suspicion of any crime. Is that correct." She had placed her phone in obvious recording mode when the Director had started speaking. She'd not bothered to ask as it was assumed that the PRT was already recording the proceedings.

"We have reason to believe your client may have unlawfully escaped confinement in an Endbringer Quarantine Zone." Colin played his role as the attack dog well. His voice was aggressive but tightly controlled. "We also have concerns about the legality of his using his parahuman powers to produce potentially destabilizing products for the Renaissance Foundation. Finally, we would like to examine where he got his information that the E88 would attack the auction this afternoon and was it the same connections that allowed him to interrupt the ABB attack on the E88 counting house last month. Depending on the exact nature of such connections, this inquiry could lead to charges of conspiracy or possibly accessory before or after the fact."

"So a fishing expedition," Hill sneered. "I hope you brought your license and your waders."

Piggot ignored the byplay between the tinker and the attorney, she was more interested in Legacy's reactions to Colin's threatening statements. His headgear made him harder to read, but she could see the contractions of his lips and nervous movements of his gloved hands. He was no poker player. Something had him worried.

"You've brought up three concerns. Where would you like to start?" Hill said.

"I think we should start with Canberra," Colin stated flatly.

"You said you have reason to believe my client escaped quarantine there," the damned lawyer interrupted. "Obviously you don't have much or you would be arresting him. So, given my client's constitutional freedom from self-incrimination, what can we do to allay your fears?"

"Were you in Canberra during the Simurgh attack," Colin demanded of Legacy.

Before he could answer, Hill had her hand on his arm, "See, that's just the sort of question he is not going to answer. If he was there he would be incriminating himself. If he answered that he wasn't he' be unable to effectively plead the Fifth to later questions. You know better than that, Armsmaster."

"Then how do you expect us to determine whether he is a danger of being mentally programmed by the Simurgh?" the tinker slammed his fist on the table.

Piggot smiled internally. _He really gets into this role_, she thought.

"It is not our job to prove him innocent. Will we also have to bring evidence he wasn't on the grassy knoll in Dallas or in the stadium in Michigan?" Hill chided.

Colin gestured o the screen which lit up showing the video of the suspected man flying away from Canberra. Piggot hated that the face could not be seen at all. "That sure looks like him." Colin pointed out. "Official evidence of a crime."

"Of a crime, maybe. What time was the quarantine officially declared? I wonder if it was before or after that timestamp."

Piggot winced. The quarantine declaration had been announced several minutes after that video was shot. A friendly judge would overlook that, given the potential harm a Ziz-bomb, as the media called them, could do. But strictly speaking Hill was right. Leaving town at the recorded moment could be argued to have been a delayed evacuation.

"Regardless," Hill continued, "that fuzzy video is in no way evidence that my client was that particular brown haired white male out of the how many hundreds of millions in the world," Hill countered easily. "And I stress world as that video was taken on the other side of the globe."

"We have further …" Colin started before Piggot interrupted him.

"I think we can put that aside for the moment," the Director did not want her attack dog exposing their theory that Legacy had gotten his powers from capes killed in the attack.

"If it makes you feel any better, to the best of my knowledge, I have never knowingly broken any Endbringer Quarantine." Legacy stated. Hill almost snapped her neck turning to glare at him.

He smiled at his attorney. "This looks like it may go on for quite some time and I have other things to do this afternoon. I want to build a working relationship with the Protectorate and the PRT. I trust you to protect my rights, but I think you may be enjoying baiting the bear a bit much."

_If looks could kill, we'd be down one lawyer,_ Piggot chuckled internally. She loved to see dissention in the enemy ranks.

"That is good to hear," the Director said aloud. "Though I am a bit concerned that your statement seems to preclude the possibility of you joining the Protectorate. That would be the best relationship.

"Surely you haven't made up your mind without hearing us out," Hannah said. She was good at applying a light touch in these situations, a good contrast to Colin's belligerence.

"I already have a job," Legacy said. He pointed to the circular patch on his shoulder. It was mostly hidden by his pauldron. Piggot saw a phoenix rising from a flaming base. The patch had writing around the outside that she assumed said Renaissance Foundation.

"Legacy is the first member of a corporate team sponsored by the Renaissance Foundation. The team, tentatively named the Helping Hands, is officially registered with MIRIS as a group of rogues working to support the Foundation's community development efforts." Hill jumped in.

Piggot was not happy. New Wave was bad enough, but a corporate team in Brockton Bay, especially one tied to a "humanitarian" NGO was a potential nightmare. If they went around upsetting the delicate balance in the name of 'helping people' it could bring the whole house of cards crashing down.

"There are limits to how much support or back-up a private sponsor can offer a hero," Hannah said. "No matter how benevolent and well-meaning such a sponsor might be, they just can't have the global reach and international influence that the Protectorate can put behind each of its heroes. If you really want to make a difference, you can do more with us."

"While you may be right about the global this and international that, the problems we are trying to solve are both very small and very complex. Punching Kaiser in the nose won't solve the problems of poverty and social injustice in Brockton Bay or anywhere else. That takes direct community involvement and swaying public opinion to impact political decisions, both things pretty much forbidden in the PRT charter. The Foundation is working to do that to address the problems underlying the crime that you fight."

"But what about the Endbringers?" Colin demanded.

"I will certainly be available to help with those and other major disasters," Legacy said. "Once the team fills out more, we will likely all participate as our powers permit."

"What are those powers?" Hannah inquired. "I mean so we will know when it is best to request your assistance and so we can plan how you might best fit in with larger efforts. Perhaps we can schedule some time in our power testing center. I don't know how long you have had your powers, but I know that power testing really helped me develop my control when I was starting out."

"I'm a bit of a grab-bag, with force fields, shadow clones, and teleportation being my main abilities." Legacy answered. "I'll consider your offer for power testing. That might be helpful."

"And I believe your last concern was my client's connection to the E88 or the ABB?" Hill asked. It sounded particularly harsh given the detente they had appeared to have reached.

"Perhaps it would be possible for you to just give us a statement of what happened this afternoon with the Empire attack on the hotel and the actions you took." Hannah replied.

Legacy looked at Hill, who nodded. "I detected the three E88 teams closing in on the auction hall, one from the front, one from the back, and one outside. I teleported to near each team in order and encapsulated them in lightproof bubbles to avoid them using line-of-sight based powers. Once I had them all contained I teleported them all outside to be turned over to you. You saw the rest."

"Just like that?" Colin asked.

"Yeah. It didn't take much longer to do it than to tell it." Legacy seemed confused at Colin's obvious anger.

"You're saying you captured nine of the strongest parahuman criminals in the city in under a minute, with no prior warning or preparation?"

"Well, I had deployed a sensor network throughout the first four floors of the hotel and the streets outside and I was tied into the hotel's security system as part of the overall security precautions. But other than that, yeah."

"How were you managing that security system?" Colin asked, more interested than upset. _Tinkers!_

"My costume has computer connectivity built-in." He tapped his obviously high-tech visor. Colin nodded.

Piggot decided this session was not likely to come to a better ending. She was not happy, but Legacy was registered and had not refused power testing. With that damned lawyer in the room, they were not likely to get more of what they wanted at this point. She was curious to learn what Colin's armor sensors, as well as the ones built into the room would tell them about their guest. But that was not going to happen with them still on the Rig. _Time to get them out of here._

"I want to thank you for your time and cooperation," Piggot said as she rose from her seat. The Protectorate heroes rose as well, forcing their guests to stand. Piggot slide her card across the table to Legacy. Please feel free to contact me if you have any question or issues. If you are building a team in my town I want us to coordinate so that … well, to work together."

The Director had almost said "… we could keep you from destroying my town with your stupidity," but refrained.

Colin and Hannah also shared their cards, as well as handshakes. They then escorted the guests out of the building. Piggot watched them on her computer screen. She would slowly and painfully relocate back to her office once they were gone.

She had a lot to think about.


	15. Chapter 15

3.5

"I'm really sorry I spoke up like that," I said once Ms. Hill and I were in the air. "I didn't mean to ignore you or disrespect you."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "You did great."

I was surprised. The look she gave me was frightening. "What do you mean don't worry about it? You seemed really upset."

"No good playing good cop/bad cop if the bad cop doesn't get to show her teeth. You should have seen Piggot's expression. She thought she had an in after that."

"Do you think they took it as a non-admission admission that I was in Canberra?" I asked.

"Probably. If you were going to tell them anything, why didn't you tell them that if that figure had been you, the only reason you would have been leaving would be because you knew for a fact you were both under the limit of Simurgh exposure and that remaining would potentially leave you contained along with those who were not under the limit?"

"I didn't know that at the time," I said. I didn't have any idea what was going on when I left. "Saying I did would have been a lie, and I suspect that Armsmaster has a lie detector built into this armor."

"Reeeaallly?" she drawled. "That interesting. How sure are you? About the lie detector I mean."

"Not positive, but I have it from a fairly reliable source."

"I'll have to remember that for future interactions."

"So, where do we go from here?" I asked.

"You're registered. If questions about that come up, I'll deal with it. For you, I'd just say let me know if they try to call you in for questioning or try to arrest you. Otherwise just do what you do."

I returned Ms. Hill to the Marriot. Lev and the rest of the Foundation staff were gone. After thanking the lawyer for her work, I invisibly teleported back to the Foundation's temporary offices. We had rented space in a building with three of the Community Alliance member organizations. It made for easy discussions.

I changed out of my costume in my office before walking out to see if I could find Lev. He was sitting in the conference room with his computer projecting on the big screen. Piles of papers were spread out on the table in front of him. David Urich, the treasurer and Guy Graves, out corporate counsel were there, as was Zada.

"Hey all!" I said. "How did we do?"

I was surprised at Lev's frown. "Not as well as anticipated," he answered.

I felt my stomach drop but realized he hadn't really given me any useful information. "That's not great, but what was the final total?"

David answered. He was a graduate accounting student that lived in the Co-op. Tall and thin, he had a prematurely receding hairline and a goatee. "We were hoping to raise $50 million. We topped out at $41,352,780."

I let out a huge sigh. Forty million dollars might not be fifty million, but it was still FORTY MILLION DOLLARS! I caught Zada's eye and she smirked, just a fractional movement of her lips, but it conveyed her amusement at the situation. I nodded minutely in response.

"Why the difference?" I asked.

"I think we took the biggest hit on the gold bars, rare earths, and some of the gems," Lev brought up a table that showed the final bids for each of the lots. "Basically, anything that had a set price in the commodities market. People just weren't interested in bidding more than the market price."

"They were looking for bargains," I said. "That makes sense. And the other lots?"

"That's where we did well. Rare or unique items brought a premium," David answered.

"So, we know where to concentrate in the future?" Guy added.

"Not necessarily," David said. "While it was only market price, the lots with 10 400oz bars of gold still brought in an average of $6 million each. We had to split them into lots of 5 bars each because of the escrow limit, but those thirty bars made up almost 44% of our total revenue. I guess even at market prices it is hard to beat pure gold.

"But for price per volume the other products all did better." Lev argued.

"We might want to break up the auctions," I suggested. "Have a gold and precious metals exchange that sells for a fraction under market price and a rare and unique materials auction to see how much interest those items generate."

"Once we have our own auction space that could be doable," Lev agreed.

"I'll have to check the regulations for setting up what amounts to a regular commodities exchange." Graves made a note.

"So, despite our best efforts, this auction was a dismal failure?" Zada asked, her tone almost mournful.

Everyone started denying it. But she spoke over them.

"I mean given the costs of the hotel and auctioneer, not to mention the cost to produce the goods themselves, we must have lost thousands."

"NO!" Lev yelled. "That $41 million was after all costs. That was profit."

"You're saying we _made_ $41 million today?" Zada clarified.

Lev and David nodded.

"That sounds like reason to celebrate!" She got up, pulled her cousin to his feet, and led him into the steps of a traditional dance of some sort.

I reached over and shook David and Graves' hands. We may not have gotten much work done the rest of the night, but we had fun.

Tuesday, I met with the whole board of advisors. These were the leaders from the Community Alliance organizations. I asked Zada, who I had convinced to take the Chief of Operations role for the Foundation. She was by far a better planner than I was, possibly due to her military background.

"Now that we have secured initial funding for the Foundation it is time to start implementing some of the plans we have been discussing for the last weeks." Listening to her I was reminded that she was also better at talking to people, getting them to work together and buy into a vision or a plan. "Thera are three parts to our initial operation – facilities, personnel, and grants."

"First, facilities. We've discussed buying, building, or renovating to meet our current and future needs. Our initial estimates are we will need 25,000 square feet of office space, another 25,000 square feet of unsecured warehouse, another 10,000 square feet for an auction house, with an additional 5,000 square feet of highly secured storage. Finally, we will need a headquarters, potentially with living space, for our super team. We can anticipate anywhere from 10,000 to 50,000 for that, depending on the size of the team and the desired capabilities. And these needs may grow in the future."

"I suggest that Lev coordinate with Peta on this," I said. "Can I get one more volunteer? Not you, Danny. I want you on the personnel team."

The others looked around the table until Trinh Tran raised her hand. She ran Open Arms, a group that worked with immigrants on refugee placement, assistance, and legal aid.

"Thanks," I said. "Next is personnel."

Zada took the lead again. "We want to hire a lot of people, 100 at an initial estimate. These will include community activists, grant program managers, lobbyists, PR, HR, auction managers and auctioneers, warehouse workers, drivers, technicians, trainers, security, accountants, legal, IT, clerical, admin, and many others. Part of this is we will need the people to support our efforts and part of this is acting as a jobs and training program for the people of the Bay. On a more specialized note we also want to recruit parahumans for our cape team."

"Zada, I would like you to lead this effort. You seem to know someone for any job." The others chuckled. "Danny, I would ask you to help her, especially with the union trades. Finally, I would ask Brent if you're willing to work with us on this. Your Way Out program could feed into some of our trainee positions if nothing else." The young former Empire member nodded his agreement.

"Lastly, we come to our philanthropic activity." Zada's tone grew more serious. "We need to decide who we are going to focus and prioritize our support efforts. We have an estimated $30 million to give away this quarter. Future auctions will bring in more finds for distribution. $30 million sounds like a lot, but it's not. We will have to be selective on what we will do with it for the most impact. Our initial discussion s suggested we concentrate our efforts in four areas – housing, jobs and job training, education, and supporting small business. Basically, we need help people find ways out of poverty that don't involve gangs, drugs, and crime. Given them hope and help them find a path to a better future."

"This is going to take more discussion, but I think a small team is the right way to get things done quickly. There is no reason to reinvent the wheel. I would suggest that we bring in a consultant who specializes in helping to set up foundations and finding priorities. I'll work with that person along with Ron, Carlos, and Tracey. We'll bring our initial ideas back to the board.

"At some point I think we need to bring in other possible partners and stakeholders," Guy said.

"Like who?" I asked. I had some people in mind but was curious about his ideas.

"The City and State are likely partners. If we can point towards their larger efforts, we can leverage their possible support more easily. Also, there are other charitable groups here in town. We want to at least have a sit down with the Red Cross, United Way, and some of the other large players. The Chamber of Commerce and Jaycees might also be worthwhile."

"Some great ideas. Let's get on their calendars for later this month or early next month so we can give ourselves some time to get organized first yet still not be locked in stone." I smiled. These were good people. I was already learning a lot from them. And I had much more to learn.

"That's all outgoing money," David said. "We are expecting to bring in money from three sources. The auctions will be our prime income. We will need to decide how frequently we will hold them. We want to balance supply and demand without saturating the market. As mentioned yesterday we also need to determine the optimum range of offerings for sale. Our second source of income is a pair of inventions by our tinker division. These are a building mounted forcefield projector, and a mobile version that can be mounted in a van or SUV to project a building sized field. Both include a mobile high capacitance battery; I think that's what they said. Anyway, we are going to offer these to select customers. Partners will get a discount. The idea is that people who are protected by these tools may be able to resist the depredations of criminals."

The board members looked at each other. I anticipated several early orders from their organizations. At Zada's suggestion I had kept these devices secret. She was also the one that suggested a mysterious tinker division, rather than Legacy claiming their invention. She was going to make sure there was a production space attached to the warehouse.

"And lastly, we will be soliciting grants and donations from other sources; government, larger foundations, and corporations. We are now one of the biggest non-profits in New Hampshire. But that does not mean we have to work alone. Therefore, we not only need grant program reviewers and managers, we need our own grant writers and development specialists."

"Thank you, David," I said. "It is really hard to realize, to believe that this is really happening. We have the power to make a real difference in this city. None of us have done this at this level before. I'm sure we are going to make mistakes. But the more we get right at the beginning the more we can do in the long run."

I stopped and looked at each of them. "Let's do some good."

After the meeting Zada pulled me aside. "Caleb, you got a minute?"

"Sure. My office?" I asked, still getting used to the idea I had one.

"Let's take a walk." She put her arms around mine and started leading me out of the building. We were on the outskirts of downtown, not too far from the location of my first super fight. Our building was a converted double brownstone. The county courthouse was only three blocks away so several of the buildings nearby were filled with lawyers and bail bondsman. Right next door to our office was Bondo's, which was oddly not a bondsman but a little restaurant specializing in New England foods; chowder, lobster rolls, fish & chips, and baked beans. I had my first frappe there. It was early evening. A cool breeze carried the scent of saltwater from the Bay. There were a lot of people on the streets, but it just felt lively, rather than crowded.

Zada continued to squeeze my arm into her chest as we walked. It was nice. After a few blocks she steered me into a small park across from the courthouse. Eventually she sat me down on a bench facing Col John L. Pelham, commander of the 7th New Hampshire in the Civil War, according to the tarnished green plaque, and proud son of Brockton Bay.

"What's on your mind?" I asked after several minutes of companionable silence.

"Why haven't you asked me out?" Her tone was curious, not offended or whining.

I sighed. "I've been wondering that myself. I figured I'd missed my window. You work for me now, and I know all about sexual harassment and power differentials. Not that I think anyone could really consider themself in a position of power over you."

"Says the man who can fly," she smiled. Reaching into her jacket inner pocket, she pulled out a folded document and handed it to me.

It was easy enough for me to read in the fading light. "An affidavit that affirms that your interest in me predates your employment with the Foundation, and confirmation that you initiated the personal relationship with no coercion or improper action on my part."

"And at the bottom …"

"The signature of the Chief Council and witnessed by the Secretary. Damn. I guess you're serious."

"I am. I want to go out with you. Tomorrow night." She laced her fingers in mine.

"I'd be a fool to say no."

"While true, I'm not sure that's an answer." She smirked.

"Yes. You. Me. Date. Tomorrow at 6? Meet at the Co-op?"

"That sounds good. We can wing it from there." She smiled.

I really liked this particular smile. It promised good things.


	16. Chapter 16

3.6

"That was really nice," I said, stopping her by pulling on our joined hands. I dragged her into the shadowed doorway of a print shop a block from the Co-op. Zada put her arms around me and snuggled close. We melded into an embrace. She pulled back and looked up at me. The hight difference was not that great allowing her to easily lean forward into a soft kiss.

"It was," she whispered onto my lips. Then she snapped her teeth and leaned back. "It doesn't have to end."

I was not surprised. The way she was raised after her parent's deaths did not exactly promote chastity as a valued trait. And while I knew I wanted her; I was not sure I wanted to risk it being a one-night stand. "I don't know, what kind of boy do you think I am?"

"That's what I'm interested in finding out." She pulled me out of the doorway and towards the Co-op at the end of the next block. We came to the glass double doors of the front entrance but Zada pulled me away from the door as I reached to open it for her. She continued talking as if she wanted to prolong our date. She led me around the corner to the small parking lot in the back of the building. She started reaching for her keys.

"What's up? Need something from the car?" I asked.

"There's something wrong in the building. I spotted three concealed gunmen and I think there was blood on the walls." Her tone was flat, all affect drained.

"What the fuck!" I started. She rabbit punched me in the stomach.

"Stop!" she hissed. "They could be watching. We have to find out what's going on."

She moved me to stand between her open trunk and the building as she reached in, grabbed a dark grey backpack, and pulled up the trunk liner. Under it was a metal case locked with a keypad. She punched in the code and opened the case to disclose several guns and knives. I almost goggled but remembered what she had said about the Mossad still hunting her since her defection. It made sense that she was prepared to defend herself.

I knew effectively nothing about guns, so I had no idea what sort she had. Two were pistols and the other was a weird looking gun with a short barrel, a pistol grip, a handle right in front of it, and a short shoulder stock. It looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. She slipped a clip of ammo into the stock behind the pistol grip, then slipped the whole weapon into her backpack. The pistols disappeared somewhere on her body as did at least two knives. She slung the backpack over one shoulder and closed the back door.

"I think, if you want to protect your secret identity," she said, "you should go and change. If trouble starts, you'll either be limited to invisible powers or you will blow your secret."

"Hold on a moment." I activated my x-ray vision and my '_What's the deal with this?_' thinker power. Looking inside the building I could see Zada was right. Things were righteously fucked.

_Hostage situation …_

_289 people in the building …_

_Empire Eighty Eight … _

_30 gang members and 6 capes …_

_Residents tied to gang members …_

_Residents rigged with explosives …_

_6 residents in front desk area …_

_6 gang members in front desk room … _

_3 dead residents in front desk area …_

_215 residents in dining room …_

_Residents have explosive on them …_

_18 guests in dining room …_

_Guests have explosive on them …_

_14 gang members in dining room … _

_Lev and David in dining room …_

_Lev and David have extra explosive on them …_

_Kaiser, Night, and Fog in dining room …_

_2 gang members in basement setting explosives …_

_5 residents in Zada's suite…_

_3 gang members in Zada's suite with communications devices …_

_Victor and Othala in Zada's suite with communications devices …_

_E88 has tapped into building security cameras …_

_Cameras cover the parking lot …_

_E88 can see us …_

_Victor is watching us …_

_4 residents in back entrance …_

_4 gang members in back entrance … _

_2 dead residents in back entrance …_

_4 gang members in back entrance watching us … _

_5 residents on roof …_

_1 gang member on roof …_

_Purity on roof …_

_Purity is watching us …_

_E88 in radio communication …_

_E88 are waiting for us …_

_E88 know my identity …_

_E88 want to kill me in revenge and trade hostages for captured members …_

_E88 will blow up building either way …_

I draw Zada into a hug and whisper what I had found in her ear. Cognizant of the eyes on us I doubted they would let us just leave. "Should we try to drive away and call for help?" I asked.

"Can you get bubbles around the hostages?"

"No. They're secured to the gang members. I could bubble each pair, but they would still have the bombs on the hostages inside the fields."

"They've found a way to counter your most obvious power." She was silent for a second. "You have to draw their attention. They're after you. I can probably disappear while you do."

"Good idea. You get away and call for help. I can give myself to them. I … I don't think they can hurt me."

"That's what I'm counting on. You get their attention. I'm going after the control center."

"But …"

"Shut up. It's what I do. Now buy me ten seconds."

I paused time for fifteen seconds.

I needed to get the capes out of the building to fight them out here to let Zada deal with the bad guys inside and free the hostages. So, I had to get their attention. Giving up my secret identity was a no-brainer. The only people I wanted to protect in this world were already in trouble because of the criminals' reaction to my actions. The secret was basically already blown. So that wasn't a consideration. But I could use it to my advantage.

When time restarted, I made a run for it, dashing towards the back corner of the parking lot. I kept my speed to human levels. Just before I reached the mouth of the alley a bright beam of white light slammed into the concrete in front of me, cutting off my escape. I whirled around and saw a brilliant glow launch from the roof towards me.

Purity used her blast to hem me in, herding me towards the back door where several people were pouring out of the building. Seeing Kaiser, Night, and Fog come out I pretended to panic.

I soared two dozen feet into the air and triggered my hard-light area attack. I dampened the damage and increased the light aspects, creating a dazzling burst of luminance inside of which I transmuted my costume. I knew my secret was out, but maybe I could create the illusion that my change was not something that could be done covertly. I also hoped to blind the cameras and other watchers to give Zada her chance.

"Legacy!" Kaiser's voice held tremendous confidence and authority. "If you try to use your force fields, we will kill hostages. Every bubble my people see means a death on your hands. Do you understand or do you need a demonstration?"

"I understand," I said. "What do you want?"

"I want the world to see that no Zionist puppet can defeat the cream of the white race," Kaiser was talking mostly to one of his minions who was carrying a camera on his shoulder. I could detect that it was streaming the event live, as were three other cameras. "I want the world to see the pain and humiliation that defying the Empire inevitably earns you. I want the mewling weaklings that make up the PRT to know that they have one hour to release my comrades they are holding unlawfully. And I want you to fight us like God meant men to fight, not with cowardly force fields but with steel and pain."

With that the gang leader gestured and three blades erupted from the ground to reach for me as I hovered above the asphalt. I let them hit me. The attack was impeccably timed with all three points impacting me simultaneously. They tore through my costume, easily piercing the golden armor plates. I screamed as they shattered against my skin.

I spun in place, arms crashing through the blades, sending splinters flying.

"Purity!" Kaiser called.

The blaster, who Lev had told me was no longer working with the Empire, scored a direct hit from above. I allowed her beam to push me to the ground. Her blast had both heat and pressure, but not enough.

Kaiser again gestured grandiosely, and a dozen spears stabbed for my heart. I gestured and they splashed to the ground as water.

"Is that the best you can do?" I prodded. I needed their eyes on me.

Zada dropped and rolled under her SUV as soon as Caleb started running. She continued to move under the cars in the row, being glad for the trend towards jeeps, SUV, and trucks. It made this sort of maneuver possible.

At the end of the row she shifted into the shadows of the dumpsters. That corner of the lot was not covered by cameras and she doubted the Nazis were watching her as Caleb made a chase out of his escape. When he lit off like a firework she moved against the south wall of the building. She was able to climb up a pipe and inch her way onto a window ledge. A quick flick of her thinnest blade and the window was open. She slipped inside Hanson's room. It smelled like feet.

Caleb had not mentioned the invaders patrolling the halls, so she figured they had already cleared the building. She took a moment to don her ballistic vest and combat harness. She checked the draw on her Sigs and readied her X95, screwing a suppressor on to the end of the barrel. It was not ideal, but it was the best she had. She released the weapon and it was pulled to her chest by the harness. She decided to try for silence and readied a knife.

_Up or down?_ She asked herself again. The charge in the basement was likely meant to bring the whole building down, hostages and all. On the other hand, the comm center was probably where the detonators for the individual bomb-vests were located.

She decided to go up. _Even if I defuse the big charges, they can still kill everyone here if I don't deal with the control links._

With one hand she slowly opened the door into the hall. It was clear. She hurried towards the stairs. At least she was familiar with the location.

Kayden cheered internally as the new hero made Max look like a fool on camera. She also cringed, knowing that her Ex would take out his humiliation on her and her daughter.

How he could have trusted Mrs. Carver. She had needed a minder for Aster and new tenant had seemed ideal. She should have suspected that she was in league with Max. But it wasn't until she came home yesterday and found Aster and her sitter gone that Kayden realized the horrible truth. The kindly old lady had been a plant to keep tabs on Max's 'possessions' and to fetch them when he wanted.

Max had wanted the money represented by the auction. He hated the Jewish jewelers and bankers and the new foundation that was started by the Zionists who lived in this dorm. Especially once he found out it was tied to the kid who had stood up to the Empire last month, leading to the capture of Hookwolf and Stormtiger. So, he sent most of his capes to take the millions and show Legacy what happened to people that stood up to the Empire.

That had been a disaster and that self-same hero had captured all Max's people without breaking a sweat. Kayden figured Gesellschaft was leaning hard on him and she knew the rank and file were already beginning to question Max's leadership. Max had to act and act big to restore people's faith in him and fear of him. So, without James to temper his outrageous impulses, he came up with this crazy plan to blackmail the PRT into releasing his capes and tearing down this Renaissance Foundation at the same time.

But with the majority of his capes in custody, to do that Max had suddenly needed Purity on his side again. and was not above leveraging their daughter's custody to get his way. How he convinced Night and Fog to come back she wasn't sure, but he figured that between the four of them they had the power to take down any upstart do-gooder.

At first Purity had done the least she could get away with. She'd been warned about Legacy's force fields, even stronger than the New Wave capes', and how he used them offensively. She had been careful to stay out of what Max said was his range when she was keeping him in the parking lot. The fact that he had not encapsulated her would seem to prove Max's guesses. She almost wished he had bubbled her. She really had no stake in this fight, except for Max's coercion.

But if killing every one of these college nobodies was what it took to get her baby back, she would do it. With that in mind she took aim at the young man and released a barrage that would have crushed a tank. He seemed to side step it and the debris from the exploding jeep it did strike just bounced off him. There was definitely more to this guy than force fields.

Fog moved in next, flowing over the hero. From the hissing of the asphalt, she could tell he was at his most corrosive. Once he encompassed Legacy, Night jumped in vanishing from sight.

A cry of fear, followed almost instantly by a wail of pain sounded within the deadly mist. Kayden fully expected Fog to recede, revealing the hero's ruined body on the bloody ground. She had seldom seen anyone survive a meeting with an unseen Night.

Instead an unnatural gust of wind blew Fog aside and it was Night that was lying unmoving on the cracked ground. The winds started rolling Fog into a ball, compressing him. He solidified to better withstand the pressure and Legacy let loose with a fork of crimson lighting that struck both Night and Fog, the latter collapsing to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut.

Kayden unleashed a volley of smaller blasts, trying to bracket the hero, keeping him stationary and distracting him from Max's attack. They did not get along, but the pair had fought side-by-side for years and knew how to double team an enemy. Sure enough Max took advantage of Legacy's immobility to have a dozen blades launch vertically from the ground, leaving no space for him to dodge.

The hero was struck by both her beams and Max's blades, getting thrown around the parking lot like a rag doll. He landed hard, away from the skewers, but still obviously stunned.

Zada perched outside her own living room window, looking in on the crowd of unwanted guests, most of whom were watching the fight through the windows on the other wall. The hostages were dumped neglectfully behind the kitchen bar, giving the other occupants of the room some cover should the bombs need to be activated. She had attached a line to the fire escape and had a precious EMT grenade in her hand, one of only three she had smuggled away when she defected.

Kicking off the wall she aimed her boots at the glass and activated the grenade. The window shattered around her as she swung into the room. A toss put the grenade under the table covered with electronics just as the pulse went off. She slipped the line and rolled behind her sofa. Grabbing the afghan draped over the back, she flicked it around Victor's head, momentarily blinding him.

Othala moved faster than the others and drew her side arm. Zada knocked the trump's pistol aside and kneed her in the stomach. An elbow to her temple removed the Empire healer from the equation temporarily. The gangbangers brought their carbines to bear. But Zada dived behind Victor as he tried to untangle himself.

Their fire bounced off his invulnerable form. Using him as a shield she drew and opened fire with both hands. Four shots later and the three Nazis were down.

"No!" Victor screamed, kicking out blindly. He was skilled but at a disadvantage. Zada blocked his kick, dropped her left pistol and grabbed the afghan. For several seconds the two danced in the limited space. She was working to keep him covered so he could not drain her fighting skills, while he was trying to take her out before his invulnerability wore off. She had dropped her other pistol and drawn a blade, using it to test his resistance.

Eventually she started drawing blood. Seconds later, Victor was out.

She rushed to the window overlooking the parking lot. Outside she could see the Empire capes had Caleb pinned down. She drew a bead on him and fired.

He looked up at her and smiled.

Suddenly Legacy stood up and let her beams and Max's blades all pass though him as if he wasn't there.

_Who was this guy! _Kayden growled, finally getting angry.

"I think this is just about enough," the kid said, his voice carrying on the wind, like Stormtiger's. "Surrender now. Enough people have gotten hurt."

"Surrender!" Max roared. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Suddenly hundreds of blades were launching from every surface, stabbing towards their mysteriously unbowed opponent. Who ignored them completely as he stepped slowly towards Max.

"That's not going to work on me." Legacy stated calmly.

Kayden joined her attacks with Max's, blasting the ground out from under the hero's feet. He just kept walking, hovering where there was no asphalt.

"I'll kill the hostages!" Max sneered. "I'll kill everyone you know. I'll kill the Jew girl!" He swept his arm dramatically at the building full of helpless college kids.

"I don't think so," Legacy growled.

He threw out both hands. Lines of darkness reeled from his fingers, passing through the walls of the building. Inside you could hear shouts and screams begin.

A scream came from the doorway Max had stepped out of moments before. There was one of the wolf pack, Oder, standing in the door, attached to one of the booby-trapped students. We all watched as a shadowy doppelganger coalesced and stared at Oder with glowing white eyes. The pack fighter opened fire with his shotgun. The shot passed harmlessly though the shadow, which then reached out and touched the explosive vest Oder's human shield. The vest blew away like dust, followed swiftly by the bindings connecting the two young people, then Oder's gun.

Max looked horrified.

Kayden was frightened. She flew to the roof, only to find the same scene. The Empire soldier disarmed and the human shield escaping under the protective eye of a shadowy doppelganger.

She looked down and watched Legacy stand in front of Max, tearing his regenerating armor away.

"You're too dangerous, too careless of others' lives, and too stupid to change. After this, you'll still be a madman, but without your powers you be just another Nazi on the trash heap of history." Suddenly the hero's eyes glowed behind his cracked visor and Max screamed.

Kayden flew away as fast as her power would move her. She knew Max would have Aster at his house. He knew the courts, even the judges he'd bought and paid for, would raise questions if he placed her anywhere else while claiming custody. That and he was too arrogant to think she would ever defy him in his place of power. But if she read what had just happened correctly that walking nightmare had just insured Max Anders, the great Kaiser, had no more power.

Kayden was going to get her daughter and get as far away from Brockton Bay and that monster as she could.


	17. Chapter 17

3.X Interlude

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** Topic: A New Thread**  
**In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay**  
**Brocktonite03 **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Posted On Apr 6th 2011:  
Go to THIS LINK right now!

Legacy is spanking what's left of the Empire. Watch right now!

Posting to get this out. Will be back with commentary.

**(Showing page 1 of 5)**

**►Brocktonite03 **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
It looks like the Empire have taken an entire dorm at BBSU hostage in order to get the PRT to release the rest of their capes AND to call out Legacy

Kaiser said he'd kill hostages if Legacy used the force bubbles he used to take out Hooky & Co. so easily on Monday.

So Legacy is pulling a bunch of new powers out of his ass to take on the E88 4 to 1.

**►XxVoid_CowboyxX **(BanHammer Survivor)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
At the beginning of the recording you can see his face.

Did they just out Legacy!

**►Brocktonite03 **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
Not exactly, but definitely breaking the rules attacking his friends and him at home. Someone in the Empire knows his ID.

**►Bagrat **(Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
Took out Night and Fog pretty damn quick. Any idea what he did to Night?

UH oh… he looks like he's in trouble.

**►XxVoid_CowboyxX **(BanHammer Survivor)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
Force Lighting!

**►Procto the Unfortunate Tinker **(Not a tinker)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
They've got him pinned!

Damn Purity and Kaiser = air superiority and area denial. Hard combo to beat.

**►Brocktonite03 **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
Was that a shot? Are the grunts getting into the fight?

**►Antigone **  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
What is that? Is he ghosting through their attacks? Intangibility? 

**►Brocktonite03 **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
Well THAT pissed Kaiser off!

**►Miraclemic **  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
FUCK! He's going to kill the hostages! Where's the Protectorate?

**►Acree **  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
Shadow Swarm! Christ, that's creepy and very very cool.

**►Brocktonite03 **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
The shadow is disintegrating the bomb and shit.

Can he be doing that inside the building too? How? Are the shadows independent or is he seeing thought their glowing eyes?

**►Char **  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
He's ripping off the armor! That's Alexandria level strength.

**►Procto the Unfortunate Tinker **(Not a tinker)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
Holy Shit!

**►Brocktonite03 **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
What the FUCK is he doing to Kaiser?

**►Miraclemic **  
Replied On Apr 6th 2011:  
That's [Redacted]! That's my boss! He's a fucking Nazi? I quit!

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5**

"I want to thank you for coming," Coil said through his double as the last of the villains took their seat. Somer's Rock had been a neutral meeting place since the time of Marquis, but it was rare that a full convocation of the Bay's criminal superpowers was called. Coil had decided that Legacy was a threat to all of them, though he was not willing to share all the reasons behind that decision. He could not tell the others that the city's newest hero was immune to the criminal mastermind's reality duplicating power. "It shows great perspicacity that you recognize the existential threat that we all face and the need to coordinate our response."

"I don't even know what the fuck you just said, snake sucker," Skidmark growled. "You called the meet. Say what you got to fucking say but use real cockgobblin' words."

"While I'll admit that Legacy, and the team he's said to be building for his Foundation, is concerning on a general level," Faultline asked. "Why should we get involved?"

"He's taken down the biggest gang in town in less than a week," Tattletale snarked, pointing to the single empty chair at one end of the table Coil had deliberately left representing the missing Kaiser. "And he has permanently depowered two capes in this city …"

CRACK! The sound of the table snapping silenced the room. All eyes turned to the shirtless man at the end of the table opposite the empty chair. Lung said nothing, but glared at the rest of the room, with his greatest ire reserved for the girl that brought up the uncomfortable truth that Oni Lee, the only other cape in the ABB had been removed from the board permanently.

"But they attacked him," Fautline countered. "At his home, while he was out of costume the second time. Kaiser unmasked him. It's not like he's Protectorate, or even New Wave. He's not going out and patrolling. If we just stay away from him and his people, there should be no problem."

"You worried you can't take him," prodded Trickster. "I know I am new in town, but there are three … five … eight … a fuck ton of us and only one of him."

"No!" Lung stood, silencing the room again. "I will kill Legacy. Stay out of my way." Fire flared from the eyes of his steel mask. He swept that burning gaze across everyone at the table. Seeing no challengers, he stalked out of the bar. Uber and Leet, who had been sitting in booths against the wall along with other independents Circus and Trainwreck and the lesser members of the various teams almost dived out of the Dragon's path.

"Fuckin' drama queen," Skidmark muttered.

Fwooosh! BOOM!

The explosion rocked the building.

"No!" Squealer rushed to the grimy grey window and stared out. "Squeaky! He just toasted my wheels!"

"I think he heard you," Trickster laughed.

"Fuckin' neutral ground!" the Merchant leader shouted.

"It appears we have reached a consensus," Coil said. "The ABB will seek justified vengeance, relieving the rest of us of this threat. Should that prove ineffective, I suggest we reconvene and prepare a more carefully coordinated response."

Coil turned in his office chair. The tail end of the meeting played out on the monitor, but he knew nothing of important would happen and his pet would inform him of her observations. He was not surprised at the result of the conclave. Rather he fully expected Lung to wish to rehabilitate his damaged reputation by taking out the new hero himself. The question was could the Dragon defeat the Trump. He could have the Undersiders and the Travelers ready to either support Lung, or more likely, to pile on the injured survivor of the clash. Taking out both enemies.

If Legacy could capture Lung in a force field without taking much damage, or worse depowers the walking catastrophe that would mean he is effectively an S-Class threat and Noelle might be the only piece with any hope of success Coil would have left to play.

He cursed the fact that Legacy was invisible in all his alternates, but the hero's active presence would automatically end that timeline. Both Tattletale and Accord had similar problems using their powers on the trump. Like Eidolon, some aspect of his powers made him almost imperceptible to Thinkers. He almost laughed when he found that the wild speculation on PHO was his second-best source of intelligence on the cape, after the PRT's files.

If this menace and his do-gooder foundation were not dealt with soon, Coil considered he might have to scrap all his current plans and relocate. There was no way he was going to risk losing his power.

Lung was contemplative as he settled in to the back seat of his black Hummer. He was not happy with the meeting. The other villains were already circling around the Empire's territory. He had plans for it himself, but he would have to move quickly lest Coil or some outside group, like these Travelers, move in. The fact that Legacy had robbed him of his second most effective weapon put his most effective weapon, his terrifying reputation for invincibility, at risk.

He knew he was individually powerful, almost certainly the most powerful cape in the city. But the Protectorate did not quake in fear of his power. They left him alone because he had proven that unless they were lucky and took him out quickly, before he could ramp up, then fighting him was not worth the collateral damage and casualties the confrontation inevitably entailed.

He knew he had not brought Leviathan low in individual combat. No one could defeat those monstrosities any more than one could defeat a typhoon, earthquake, or any other force of nature. But the widespread reputation that he had was one of the reasons East Asian refugees, those that were most vulnerable to the depredations of the ABB, flocked to Brockton Bay. They saw Lung as a monster, but at least he was _their_ monster. But the public defeat of his right hand cape hurt that reputation. He was reduced enough that those ants dared to tell him how to defend his territory and avenge his comrade.

"Take me to Alberto's" Lung growled to his driver. No response was expected or welcome. Kwong had been handling his transportation for more than a year and knew how to judge his moods.

Lung sighed internally. Going to Alberto's told his men that he was angry and frustrated, needing time and peace to think. They were too smart to ever comment on the most prominent Asian gangster in the Bay liked to indulge in his preference for Italian food. The Japanese cooking in town never quite tasted right, though he usually put up with it. To say nothing of the Chinese slop that always reminded him of his captivity under the Yàngbǎn rather than his mother's cooking.

He pulled out a tablet and reviewed all the videos on the damned cape that had caused his current predicament. Legacy was strong. He was fast. And he was tough. But none of that mattered. Lung was stronger, faster, tougher. It was his other powers that were of concern.

As he watched Legacy capture the giant twins in his bubbles, he thought they were bigger than he normally got. Having fought them, he knew they were strong as was the bastard Hookwolf. Stronger than Lung was until he grew. And the bubbles held them. That was Lung's true weakness. He was only human until he had time to grow. He was vulnerable to an overwhelming first strike

_How would I get out of one of those fields?_ he pondered. _Surely they cannot hold me. Over time I would grow until it popped. Or I would burn my way out._

But the force fields were not Legacy's most frightening power. That was the ability to snuff out the powers of other capes. There were trumps, like Hatchet Face, that could temporarily negate powers. But Legacy could extinguish them completely. He could make a parahuman into a normal human.

He could steal that which made Kenta into Lung.

But Legacy was not unbeatable. He would be vulnerable to the same surprise first trike as was Lung. Attack him before he could bring up his shield or strip a capes power. Burn him to ash before he could defend himself.

And that thought, that certainty, stirred Lung's power. The very anticipation of the fight was serving to fuel his abilities. When he eventually changed, it would be rapid, accelerated by the sheer threat his opponent posed.

He began to look forward to the confrontation. He would get information, either from his own spies or from that bastard Coil. Once Legacy was in public, the dragon would strike hard and fast. Regardless of the hero's actions or powers, their battle could only have one outcome. Lung had long ago made a promise to himself.

One way or another he would never lose again.


	18. Chapter 18

4.1

I wondered whether board meetings were worse than villain fights. Fighting always meant there was the possibility that people would get hurt or killed. So on any objective scale, possible human casualties had to be said to be far worse than the slaughter of time through sheer monotonous minutiae that a board meeting might entail. But subjectively the adrenalin rush of combat sure beat the ennui of listening to repetitive reports.

The meeting on the Friday following the Empire attack combined some of the worst of both worlds. Lev was reporting about the damage to the New Dawn Co-op, and the people that were hurt or killed. "The attack was directed at Legacy and the leadership of the Foundation, therefor we have a certain moral, if not legal, culpability for the damage done," he argued.

"I submit that we owe some level of restitution and propose the following. First, we offer compensation to the families of the slain and assume all medical expenses for the injured. Second, we recompense all residents of the Co-op by defraying their rents for the remainder of the academic year. We may want to consider purchasing the note on the building and donating it to the Co-op and recommend they pass those savings on to the residents."

"Not to put too fine a point on it, Lev," Guy interrupted, "but aren't you, and Caleb, and Zada, and David all residents. I think any compensation that directly benefits members of the Board voting on them is a conflict of interest and may be a legal issue for the Foundation."

"I had considered that," Lev said. "The four of us would continue to pay our current rent either to the Co-op or the Foundation, regardless of rental adjustments. That should allay in ethical concerns.

"Fair enough," Guy conceded.

"There is the possibility that we're going to be kicked out of the Co-op anyway," David frowned.

Both he and Lev had been targeted by the gang. And both bore signs of that attention. Along with a fine set of bruises and scrapes, Lev had bandaged ribs and David had stiches in his cheek and ear. I had seriously considered growing a healing power to fix them, and the other injured in the attacked, but had decided that if I could heal people I would be driven by my conscience to spend all my spare time at the hospitals trying to save lives.

I hated hospitals.

When I was ten my younger sister was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin lymphoma. This type of cancer has an 87% survival rate. My sister was in the unlucky 13%. I spent most of a year accompanying my family to hospitals and clinics watching Grace die, slowly and in great pain. Her illness and death was the cause of most of my parent's arguments and the impact of her passing on the rest of the family lasted long after the pain faded. Part of that impact was my hatred of hospitals.

I know some people who lose a family member are driven to become doctors and researchers. Not me. I was driven to try to make the lives people live better, if not longer. So I choose not to join Panacea in her medical servitude. On the other hand, I was planning on contacting her and the rest of New Wave to see if we could partner to support each other's work.

"What do you mean?" Guy asked.

Lev frowned. "We're copping a lot of the blame for people getting killed. If we didn't live there the Co-op wouldn't have been attacked. I can't say they're not wrong. It just hurts that some people don't want to stand behind us. Still I can see their point. Even if we do get kicked out, I think we need to pay restitution. I would even say we keep any decisions made until after they vote on evicting us."

"Do you want me to look over your lease to see if they can evict you? There are laws protecting victims of crimes from retaliation." Guy offered. "This is not your Chief Counsel speaking, but your friend the lawyer. Not part of my Foundation duties I mean."

"I think we can come up with enough to rent a house if we need to. Maybe even buy one," I said. "Form a small co-op of our own."

"Let's leave that aside," Lev said. "Here are the details I am proposing …" he pointed to the PowerPoint on the screen and my mind started to wander. I was for his proposal and trusted him on the details.

I was more concerned about the PRT's reaction to the incident.

Piggot had tried to chew on me for outing Kaiser.

"You can't just unmask people like that!" She pounded her desk. I was meeting her alone in her office. I could sense the cameras and mics transmitting the meeting to a room buried in the bowels of the PRT building where Armsmaster and Miss Militia were observing.

_PRT not willing to risk removal of their powers. _

_Office rigged with containment foam sprayers and pop-up lasers._

_Piggot set to escape through drop into tube below chair. _

I was getting used to using my thinker powers more regularly, not wanting to risk an ambush. I wasn't too worried about the PRT's preparations. I was confident I could ghost through containment foam and the lasers would likely bounce. But I was not there to cause problems.

"You mean like he unmasked me?" I replied. "My actions were in defense of self and others. They had already killed several people and were prepared to kill hundreds more. I understand your agency's purview is parahumans, thus your primary focus is on them. But I was concerned with everyone there."

"Fine, let's talk about 'everyone'." Piggot snarled in obvious frustration. "Were you aware that Max Anders is the single largest employer in Brockton Bay? If Medhall tanks more than 7,000 people will lose their jobs. That is a blow to the city's economy that it cannot survive. Not even with your little charity getting into the game."

"Too big to fail?" I asked.

She snorted.

"There is no reason the company has to close its doors," I said. "Even if the whole board is a front for Nazis, the company is producing legitimate products that should be able to keep the company afloat under legitimate management. Maybe the government can seize the assets and sell them to another honest company." I was reminded of the amorous drug reps, Kent and Missy who could be out of their jobs.

"I was expecting you to offer for it yourself?"

"Too rich for the Foundation. Besides, we are not looking to get into business. While we do have the Exchange; that's a not-for-profit enterprise that is used solely for raising funds for the Foundation's philanthropic works."

"Speaking of which, are you aware that the Justice Department is looking at the Renaissance Foundation for potential NEPEA-5 violations?" she asked with just a touch of schadenfreude. "You, both personally and as the President, could be facing massive fines."

"As you are well aware there are any number of corporate teams allowed under the existing laws, as well as any number of capes making money with their powers. Otherwise MIRIS would not exist. The restrictions of NEPEA-5 are narrowly targeted. Our attorneys, and those of the New Hampshire and Massachusetts ACLUs are certain that the NEPEA-5 provisions for limiting parahuman involvement in business and media do not apply to organizations with a 501(c)(3) status." I looked at her as directly as my visor allowed. "We, with their support, are willing to go to court as a test case to confirm this. We already have briefs in the works for filing should the government try to stop our auctions."

"As for WEDGDG," I continued. She winced. "We hope to be a benefit to the economy of the city and state. We are no danger to the economy of the nation or the world. And we are willing to comply with all normal oversight procedures."

"You may not be a danger to the economy, but you _are_ a danger to the stability of the city," Piggot pushed back. "You've damaged or destroyed two of the largest gangs. That's going to cause a gang war that will spill out on to the streets endangering thousands of citizens. Not to mention the instability will invite criminals from outside to come to try to take advantage of the weakness of the established powers. I wouldn't be surprised to see a resurgence of the Teeth after all these years."

She pointed a jaundiced finger at me. "_You_ are responsible for every person killed or business destroyed in this chaos because without you and your cowboy crap it would _not_ have happened."

I so wanted to shoot back that if she hadn't sat on her fat ass for the last however many years and had taken down the gangs like she was supposed to, then none of this would have happened either.

"All I am responsible for is my own actions," I said instead. "The choices and actions of others are their own responsibility."

"So you're going to sit in your ivory tower, protecting your people, playing great white savior to the poor savages of this benighted city when you should step up, take responsibility, and make a real difference by joining the Protectorate!" Again with the hand slam.

"I will overlook your deliberately provocative wording with its racist implications. While I am willing to work with the Protectorate in certain areas, I think we may have to disagree on what constitutes making a real difference."

"Your identity has been revealed as well," she pointed out. "You're a danger to your friends and family now. We can help protect them."

"I would hope so," I said, swallowing 'because that is your job" and continuing, "though we are going to take precautions ourselves."

"Your force filed tech?" she frowned more deeply. "The PRT is considering prohibiting the public distribution of that technology for national security reasons."

"My lawyers will be happy to discuss that with you, and my PR people will be happy to broaden the discussion on why the PRT has not shared _their_ pre-existing protective technology with the local schools and hospitals, for instance. Interestingly, those will be some of the first places we will donate generators."

She stared at me, her teeth grinding and fingers drumming on the desk. I gazed back impassively.

Finally she snapped, "Get out."

I nodded and left. A uniformed officer met me at the office door and escorted me to the roof.

I wondered if a legal battle, or worse a physical clash, with the PRT and their capes was inevitable. I had always thought of myself as a proponent of the rule of law and the idea that laws should be justly and equitably enforced. But I also recognize that the law can be perverted by a corrupt government. Civil disobedience allows people of conscience the option to disobey laws for a greater good, while accepting upon themselves the consequences of that disobedience. If it came to a conflict with the PRT would I resist or allow myself to be jailed to make a point? I did not know.

That evening while floating over the city I remembered that the bug girl protagonist of the webserial was supposed to make her debut by fighting Lung some time soonish. As it had not yet happened that either meant it was coming up or that my actions had changed the world enough that it might not happen at all.

I decided to look around the city to see if I could find her or other possible recruits for the team. If I could keep her out of the Undersiders … I was surprised I remembered the name, though it had come up again in my study of the locals … and away from accidental villainy and the control of the time split guy it would be a good thing.

My powers let me detect people with powers pretty much anywhere in the city if I tried. But I had to be closer to discern the nature of those powers. I decided to spend a charge to refine the detail so I could identify the nature of any powers within my range. This let me pick out independents we had been considering. I added bug girl and whirlwind girl to the list.

As I flew invisibly over the city I could sense most of the capes were in their homes. Bug girl was one of those. A couple were out in their civilian identities. There was whirlwind girl. I decided not to bother them as that was a breach of the 'unwritten rules' that Piggot took such care to explain to me.

By a strict interpretation my simply knowing their homes and faces was a violation, but that was the nature of my powers. I also placed little faith in these sanctity of these 'rules' as Kaiser had broken them when it suited him. Piggot had shown some surprise at his decision to do that, but suggested that my capture of nine out of twelve of his available capes may have forced his hand.

At 12:47 a.m. I found a trio of parahumans in conflict. The one I had been looking for was Browbeat, a young man with self-biokinesis combined with touch telekinesis who was patrolling the dark alleys of the Docks. It appeared he had come across a battle between Circus, a low level villain with multiple powers and Shadow Stalker, one of the Wards, who was also one of the bullies that terrorized bug girl into triggering. Browbeat was crouched on the edge of the roof of a three story building watching the fight below. It looked like he was deciding whether or not to join in.

Becoming visible as I descended, I cleared my throat quietly to alert him of my presence. He looked up with a start. When I landed beside him, he took a step back.

"Legacy?" he asked.

"Browbeat," I nodded and held out my hand. He stared at it. I could see the expression of trepidation under his full face mask.

I realized I was becoming something of a boogie man to other capes, which was not my preference. Dispelling that fear, that I would depower every cape I met, was one of the reasons I was anxious to fill out my team. I did not need other heroes for their powers. I needed more public faces for the team and bodies to be in places while I was elsewhere. Community building was a collective effort. I could not do it alone.

"That been going on long?" I asked looking down on the fight.

They were well matched. Both combatants were fast and agile. Circus had the advantage in speed, but Shadow Stalkers shadow state allowed her to make up most of the difference. Both used a mixture of close combat and short range projectiles. As I watched, Circus caught one of Shadow Stalkers quarrels out of the air. I noted it was tipped with needle sharp steel, something I'd read she was not supposed to be using since joining the Wards. The colorful villain launched it back at the dark vigilante, who let it pass through her.

"Couple of minutes at least since I got here," he whispered.

"Any idea why?" I asked, using my aerokinesis to limit the sound to the roof.

"No," he said quietly. "If they bantered, it was before I arrived."

"Are you going to join in?"

"I was thinking about it," he shrugged. "But Shadow Stalker took a pot shot at me a few nights ago. I'm not sure she wouldn't think I was on the wrong side."

"Think I should stop them?" I held up a hand and a little bubble appeared. I was curious as to his thought process, but didn't want him to think I was suggesting draining them.

He stood back and really considered my question. Eventually he nodded. "Someone could get hurt. Circus uses fire and Shadow Stalker is not too particular with her aim. I think there are homeless staying in some of these buildings."

I checked and he was right. There were a few people taking shelter in the abandoned structures. Returning his nod, I gestured and encapsulated both combatants below. He looked a little startled as I raised the bubbles to the roof level. I had to burn a charge to add a sort of telekinesis to the power but now I could move the force fields around mentally.

Circus and Shadow Stalker were looking around trying to find the source of their captivity when they spotted the two of us on the roof. Circus tried to free herself with a trickle of flame that had no effect on the interior of the bubble. Shadow Stalker's phased crossbow bolt had more results. It passed through the field and impacted my chest, sticking in one of my armor's chest plates. She managed to slip from the bubble before I could increase its effectiveness against her power.

She got off three more bolts before I released five shadow clones that were able to quickly restrain her. No matter which form she tried, they could hold her, an odd interaction between the powers. After a few moments I created a special bubble around her and the shadows, two of which melded on to the interior of the bubble making it semi-opaque but keeping her from passing through it. Circus and Browbeat just watched on.

"You are fucked now," Shadow Stalker yelled as she struggled to get free. "You just attacked a Ward. That's prison time."

I picked up one of the hunting quarrels and prodded the tip, then pointed to the one sticking out of my chest. "I think you will find that self-defense against an unannounced illegal attack, even from someone who later turns out to have police powers, which to be honest, I am not certain the Wards do, is a legal response. I'll call Director Piggot and ask after explaining the situation."

She looked at me. Again I could see her face through her mask and saw the doubt flash across before settling back to anger. "We'll see who she believes. She's not too happy with you right now."

"And _you're_ her golden child?" I asked.

"This sounds like something you two need to work out," Circus said. "If you don't mind, I'll just be going." They were wearing a ringmaster's overcoat on top if an aerialist's leotard, along with a mask with clown hair and a top hat. Colorful and clashing, yet it all somehow worked.

"Why were you two fighting?" Browbeat asked. Under his mask he face was a study in interested curiosity.

"She just jumped me, for no reason," Circus said dramatically.

"He's wanted on suspicion of a jewelry store heist," Shadow Stalker argued.

I did not have a full understanding of the legal authority to arrest and detain that the Protectorate heroes had, much less the kids in their apprentice program. I did not know how legal trying to kill someone on 'suspicion' was.

"What do you think I should do with them?" I asked Browbeat, still wanting to explore his thought process.

Again, he took his time thinking. "I think she? … he? … is probably wanted for something. And I think Shadow Stalker was working outside the rules. The Wards are trying to recruit me and told my parents that I would never be patrolling alone. I do not see her partner anywhere so she is probably out of bounds." He paused then nodded. "I think you should call in the Protectorate and let them deal with it. I have Miss Militia's card on me."

He pulled a business card out of his costume. I could not see any pockets, but realized the costume was actually his outer layer of skin and he had grown internal storage spaces. Biokinesis was pretty cool.

"You want to call it in?" I asked. If he was interested in the Wards this would be a tough decisions. He would be bringing in a villain, but he would also be ratting out a teammate.

"No way. You do it." He shoved the card at me. I took it and made the call using my cyberpathy.

"Miss Militia," the voice answered.

"This is Legacy. I am at 459 Walther, on top of the roof. I have someone identified as Circus who was fighting with someone claiming to be Shadow Stalker. Both were firing lethal attacks recklessly into inhabited areas. I would request Protectorate assistance with these two individuals."

"I see. We will have someone there … No, _I'll_ be there in fifteen minutes. Thank you for calling this in. Out of curiosity, how did you get my direct number?" she inquired.

"Browbeat is also on scene and witnessed the suspect behavior. He gave me your number."

"I …see. Be there in fifteen."


	19. Chapter 19

4.2

Long story short, Miss Militia took both Shadow Stalker and Circus off my hands after listening to both Browbeat's and my story of what we had seen and done.

She did not seem overly pleased that Browbeat elected to stay and talk with me after she offered him a ride. He did not stay long but did accept the brochure we had created to explain what Helping Hands was and that we were looking for a few good people to help us help others.

I think he was intrigued by the idea of a possibility other than the Wards. I was a little concerned with recruiting too many teens. We wanted to be effective community developers, not an afterschool club. But having the right teens could be a good thing. I was not ageist.

Saturday afternoon Zada took me to the Brockton Bay Zoo. It was in the park at the foot of Captain's Hill. I will admit I had seen better, but it was still worth the visit.

"So, our first date ended badly, but that was neither of our fault," Zada said as she cuddled under my arm. It was a little awkward since she was almost as tall as me. I thought for a second about creating a growth power but decided that was just silly in this situation.

I had been concentrating most of my charges on upping ten powers. First was what I called the Superman package – flight, super strength, invulnerability, regeneration, super speed, and super senses; as well as my other commonly used or important powers – teleport, force fields, situational awareness, and dimensional portal. They were going up quickly, doubling or more in power, range, flexibility, and/or detail almost every day. I only created a new power on rare occasion.

"I agree," I said. "And I'm enjoying time with you this afternoon."

"Yeah, and while I like all this cuddle time and conversation. There's something that's missing."

My heart skipped. Lev had warned me that Zada was not one for long relationships. But five days? "What's that?" I asked.

"Sex. I was hoping for some naked fun on Wednesday, but that didn't happen. I want to take this big strong man into my bed. Do you have plans for tonight?"

_Big strong man … STRONG man! …Oh crap!_

"Zada, did you ever read the Larry Niven piece Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex?"

"Yeah, everyone knows that one … חיים בזבל … You're that strong?" She looked at me with big eyes.

"I'm not sure, but possibly. Give me a night or two to make sure I have the unconscious absolute control needed to be safe for you. I might already have it, but I want to be positive."

"Shit!" she muttered. "Alright. But I want double then, for waiting."

"I am hoping we will have lots of opportunities, so be as greedy as you want."

She looked at me and I almost spent a charge on telepathy just to know what she was thinking. But I didn't. I wasn't certain I ever really wanted to know what went on in someone else's head. I just hoped that this time it wasn't her deciding not to tell me I only got one night, so make the most of it.

We were getting some stares. My face had not gotten wide distribution as it was cut off most copies of the video of the fight with Kaiser and Purity that were available online. There were a few, but whenever I found one I hacked it to edit the beginning. But I was pretty certain that all the criminals in Brockton Bay had somehow managed to get at least a decent still from the recording.

I was noticing a few zoo personnel and customers following us or taking pictures.

_Disproportionate number of Asians at zoo._

_Asians paying particular attention to us._

_Asians using phones to report on us._

_Likely setting up an ambush._

_Likely an ambush by Lung. _

"Zada …"

"You think they are planning something?" she asked before I could finish. She was casually not looking at the people tracking us.

"Yeah …"

"Lung?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"You want to run or fight?"

"I want you to run, for real this time," I replied. "While I draw him somewhere with fewer people." I looked up towards the top of the Hill. There were some families and other people enjoying the spring day, but I hoped I could run them off before anything started.

Looking up, Zada nodded. "Looks good enough." She drew me in and kissed me hard. "Lung is no joke. Take him down fast and hard. Don't let his have a chance to ramp up. This is serious. And when this is over you damned well better remind me why I'm dating you."

"Right!"

_What the HELL are you doing?_ I yelled in my head. _It takes two to fight. There's __no__ reason for you to enable this violence. Don't buy into the conflict-based mindset. You can de-escalate by teleporting away. Then no one is in danger. You have nothing to prove and nothing to gain by fighting. Just walk away._

"Wait!" I said, loudly enough to be heard by everyone nearby. Zada turned back to me. "I think we're putting everyone here at risk. I think we should just leave. There's no fight if I'm not here."

"If you think that's best," she said, waiting as I walked to her and took her hand. Once I had an arm around her, I teleported with an extra flash of light.

We appeared on the roof of the Co-op. I scanned the area looking for any danger. I saw seventeen watchers. Two of whom were PRT, three whom were reporters, and the rest were unidentifiable. Disgustingly, but not surprisingly, the location of the webcast battle between Legacy and the leadership of the E88 had become a tourist attraction almost overnight. There were often random people passing by, pointing, taking selfies in the parking lot, or even trying to question the residents. This was something else make up less than popular with our fellows. It also meant I could not easily tell the possible gang lookouts from the random looky-loos.

"So, no big fight?" Zada grinned as she held onto me.

"No need to risk casualties or collateral damage. I will if I have to, but It is not my job to take down Lung." I hugged her. "Having said that, I'm going back invisibly, to make sure he doesn't cause any trouble upon not finding me there."

I teleported into the sky a mile above the zoo. My vision allowed me to find Lung. He was approaching the area in the form of a sixty-foot-long flying dragon. Somehow, he had managed to ramp up already. That would have been a nasty surprise. The great beast flew low over the zoo, rocking the trees and frightening both the animals and the people. His minions were waving him off. Beating his great wings, he landed on top of Captain's Hill. People were fleeing for their lives.

Looking like a combination of Godzilla and Rodan, he sat up on his haunches, unfurled his wings, reached his sinuous neck towards the midday sun, and released a jet of flame that shot into the sky. Along with the flames, he let out a roar that reverberated around the city, alerting all to his wrothful presence. I watched closely. If he was going to go on a berserk rampage, I would have to contain him.

I had not seen him attempt to murder anyone, so I did not feel he deserved to be de-powered. I knew that action on my part was like the death penalty. While the person lived, they were so changed that their self-identity effectively died. I had not seen him do anything to deserve that and I was not sure enough of myself or the society to offer such a punishment based on reports and hearsay.

After his display Lung started to shrink. While angry and frustrated, he had no enemy to fight so his powers began to return him to his human form. Five minutes later he was being escorted to a large SUV in the parking lot at the base of the Hill.

We would not be fighting today.

I spent the rest of the afternoon tracking down potential team members. While we were looking for people that could help with security efforts on Foundation buildings and events, such as the Exchange auctions or public political actions. Primarily, they need to be able to act as community ambassadors, representing the Foundation in the city, supporting our development endeavors.

I was at an odd disadvantage. I knew who and where each of the independents in the city were, but I could not approach them without risking them feeling threatened or intimidated. Browbeat had informed me he was willing to consider comparing our offer versus the Wards. I was doubtful that established villains like Circus or Uber & Leet would be willing to join us but was still willing to give them a chance. There were even a few capes in a town north of Brockton Bay, but I did not want to go beyond the metro area to start. The Foundation was concentrating its efforts in the city so that was where I looked to recruit.

As I scanned the city, the only one I found who was approachable was Dovetail. She was in costume flying patrol over the Boardwalk. I wondered how much of that was because it was a high-profile location and how much was because it was the source of a large percentage of the tourist dollars. What I had read on PHO suggested Dovetail was trying to establish a reputation for herself, likely in aid of negotiating a better deal when she eventually joined the Protectorate. She had already worked on a few cases with them. This made me hopeful she was not wedded to her independence and might consider a different offer.

I teleported to the roof of one of the taller buildings on the Boardwalk. I used a bit of a light show with my appearance, one she could see from her elevated position. Sure enough, she came closer to investigate, though not too close. He basic power was fast and maneuverable flight. Her secondary power was leaving a contrail of little feather-like constructs that created weak force fields on anything they touched. The feathers dissipated in seconds and fell slowly so if she flew high enough, they would vanish before hitting anyone below her. This combination did not make her a combat powerhouse. So, she was properly cautious in her approach.

Or she was worried I would depower her.

"Hey!" I called as I waved.

"Hello?" She hovered a dozen yards away. "You're Legacy, right?"

"Yeah, and you're Dovetail," I said. I used my aerokinesis to carry my voice to her more easily. I could hear her anywhere in the city. "I was hoping to talk with you. Mind if I join your patrol?"

"Why? Are you expecting trouble?" She looked around as if she expected Lung or the E88 to leap out at me. Dovetail was a tall, slim woman with straight mid-length brown hair, though that was wrapped up under her helmet in costume. I knew for seeing her on campus that she was several years older than me, probably late twenties or early thirties. Her costume was white with fuchsia highlights. She carried several eggs that I saw were containment foam grenades, though the foam was a slightly different formulation from what the PRT used. I wondered where she got it.

"Nothing of the sort," I assured her. "I've been trying to get to know some of the independent heroes in town. I heard you have been around longer than most of them and wanted to ask about your experiences."

"Ah," she said as she hovered nearer, "the Protectorate been pressuring you to join? They do that to almost every new hero. Not just here either. I was down in Boston when Bastion first asked me. But I wanted to make a name for myself first. Prove my value. So, I turned him down."

I hovered nearer her and nodded in the direction she had been flying before she saw me. Without pausing her tale, she resumed her patrol with me following closely. "Besides no self-respecting Brockton Bay native wants to end up in Boston. They're crazy down there."

"How long have you been a hero?" I asked.

"Almost three years. I think I am the longest lasting solo hero in the Bay. And I have to tell you, it isn't easy. This city's crazy."

I smiled at her. She gave a shy smile back. "How often do you petrol?"

"Pretty often," Dovetail said. "I've got a deal with the Boardwalk Enforcers. For a regular stipend I make frequent appearances. This is both to combat or discourage crime and to put a cape face on the security of the tourist area. The Protectorate or Wards capes come by too, for the same basic reason. But they have to patrol the whole city. I pretty much concentrate in this area and around the Lord's Street Market."

"Do you see much action?" I asked. I was getting the impression Dovetail either liked to talk about herself or she did not get the opportunity to talk about her hero gig much. Given her working alone and keeping a secret identity, I could see her not being able to open up to many people.

"A fair bit," she admitted, "though most of it is petty crimes – purse snatching, pickpockets, shoplifting, that sort of thing. The gangs leave the area alone for the most part. They know the tourists mean money for everyone ultimately. At least most of them do. The Merchants are starting to make trouble."

The Merchants, from what Zada had told me, were a newer gang that was headed by a trio of capes. The gang seemed to prey on people with addictions and various mental disabilities. If they were not for the reports that they were forcibly addicting people to hard drugs to expand their narcotics market, I would say they represented a prime demographic for Foundation assistance.

The Merchants controlled almost no territory, but it sounded like they were starting to expand more aggressively. This might be a consequence of my removing the leadership of the Empire. I had no idea how effectively the Nazi gang was holding together without their capes. Piggot had warned me about this sort of thing, but it was the first I had heard of it in the field.

"Oh, look!" Dovetail pointed at a crowd surrounding a pair of dancing giraffes. At first, I though the mascots were those inflatable puppet-like things that were animated with air from a fan at the base, but then I saw a girl dressed up like an old-fashioned doll. Parian. Dovetail moved to land at the edge of the crowd.

Parian noticed us before the crowd did and nodded to my companion. Her immobile mask hid the look of consternation that came to her face when she recognized me. I was beginning to hate the fear I seemed to generate in capes without trying or, in my opinion, justification. I just nodded to her.

The crowd was fascinated with the animated stuffed animals. They were not quite life-sized but topped out at over ten feet tall. I realized they were the mascots for a personal electronics and gadget shop half a block off the Boardwalk. They were having a sale.

A few people noticed Dovetail and me and started pointing us out to their companions. Within a minute the crowd's attention was almost evenly split. Parian quickly wrapped up her show and someone form the store started touting their special deals. Many of the crowd wandered off while some went into the store and others stayed to see what entertainment the two new capes might offer. Dovetail started to work the crowd, soliciting questions and offering selfies. I watched as Parian moved her toys into a truck that seemed too small to hold them and locked them away. When she was done, I approached.

"Sorry to draw attention from your show," I said offering my hand. "I'm Legacy."

She buried her hands into her skirt, avoiding my offer. Instead, she dipped in a short curtsy. "It's no problem," she said. Her voice had a burr reminiscent of Zada's that fit her middle eastern face. I did not know enough to guess where she was from. "More capes mean more spectacle. Now the audience will expect me to pull capes out of my hat and that will draw larger crowds for my clients."

"But won't they be disappointed if no one shows up?" I asked.

"Dove stops by about once every five shows or so," she shrugged. "Besides, there is nothing saying my babies have to be animals. Maybe I will create cast of capes for future shows."

"That could work," I agreed. At this time Dovetail joined us as the last of the tourists went on their way.

"Hey Parian."

"Dovetail," the doll cape replied. "How has the day been? Any problems?"

"No, it's been quiet so far," she replied.

"Except for Lung's display," Parian reminded us. Dovetail shivered. I dropped my head.

"What was that about?" the flying heroine asked, sounding like she was excited by the gossip.

"I'm afraid that was partially my fault," I said. "He came looking for me on Captain's Hill and I was long gone by the time he arrived. I didn't want to risk a fight getting out of hand and people or property getting hurt."

"Running from the full-grown rage dragon make sense," Dovetail reassured me.

"If he's looking for you, is it safe for you to be here?" Parian asked, looking around as if she expected the ABB leader to drop from the sky. I glanced to find him napping in his apartment. But I did not feel comfortable letting them know I could do that.

"I think it is, but It might be better if I don't stay long," I agreed. "But I wanted to talk to both of you."

The looked at each other then back at me. The distrust was back in place. "What about?"

I reached into my belt and pulled out a couple of brochures. "The Renaissance Foundation is going to be sponsoring a cape team – both heroes and rogues – to support our community development and philanthropic efforts. We are not looking to do the Protectorate's job fighting crime and such. We are going to be doing a different sort of work."

"We want to recruit from within the independent cape community of Brockton Bay," I continued to their silence. "You live here. You know where at least some of the problems are and may even have ideas on how resources can be used to address the needs of the citizens. This is a different way to help the people of the city."

I thought I was losing them, so I changed tacks. "It's a paid professional position, benefits and all. We intend to have a compensation package equal to or better than the Protectorate."

I stopped because I felt I was starting to beg. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know and give you our contact if you want more information."

My thinker bullshit told me Parian was set against the idea, while Dovetail was potentially interested.

Maybe I should leave the pitch to Zada. She could talk anyone into anything.

A/N: Greetings all,

As some of you had anticipated, I think that I have written myself into a corner. Writing a character with Power Manipulation seems to have led me to a story with limited challenge.

At this point I don't think there's anyone in the Worm-verse that can defeat Legacy, except possibly the Endbringers and Scion. Any cape with a shard he can depower. Which means that even the Triumvirate or the Slaughterhouse 9 is no threat to him. There are also very few capes that can overcome his force fields. And he's been using 10 charges a day to upgrade his 10 favorite powers for almost 6 weeks. So, he is physically a match for Alexandria. And given 6 more weeks until the Leviathan attack, he might be able to physically challenge the Endbringer.

This means that any attacks on him have to be indirect. Coil, for instance, might attack the soup kitchens and halfway houses that The Renaissance Foundation supports While he agitates with the PRT and Justice Department to bring investigations on the foundation. Coil could be Lex Luthor to Legacy's Superman. But only until Legacy catches him and depowers him.

I could continue the story with these sorts of indirect attacks and investigations. Or I could start telling the story from secondary characters' POV, with Legacy effectively becoming a force of nature.

But neither of those sound particularly interesting to me to write.

What that means is that until I can figure a different path, or get some new inspiration, I think I'm going to stop writing this story.

I'm disappointed with that outcome. And I hope that at least some of you are too.

But unless I want to do a timeskip and have Legacy battle Scion after another 500 days of upgrades, I don't see how else I can bring this to any sort of satisfying end.

I will continue to give this some thought, but at the moment the story is at best on pause.


End file.
